Something Better Left Unknown
by singsongsung
Summary: Things change. In an instant, she makes the decision to go home after two years, searching for everything she lost. But it's harder than she's bargained for, especially when she's got a secret powerful enough to tear it all away again. Peyton-centric; LP.
1. Prologue: Change

**A/N: **This picks up approximately two years after the season four finale. Most of the basic storylines are the same; I've changed a few _small_ things, that's all. I think it'll make sense, but if you have questions, you can always ask and I'll be happy to clarify. I realize that this chapter is very short, but it's just the prologue and I have the next chapter written in its entirety. Should I be starting another story right now? Well, no. But I am. So let me know what you think!

**Prologue**

"_Change alone is eternal, perpetual, immortal."_

-- Arthur Schopenhauer

Things change.

One second you're eight years old glaring at Nathan Scott, who's always chasing you around the schoolyard, the next you're looking into your father's grief-stricken eyes as he solemnly tells you that mommy's in the hospital and she might not be okay.

One minute you're pushing the shirt off the arms of the most beautiful boy you've ever seen, kissing him feverishly, the next you're running scared because it's too much and it's too soon.

One hour you're staring out the window of a car, watching the world race by while your broken heart keeps on thumping in your chest, the next he's all sweaty and victorious and he looks like he's having an epiphany as he says that _it's you_, and he's talking about his dreams and your dreams and it feels like you always wanted it to when he kisses you under a shower of multi-coloured confetti.

One day you're so enamoured with him that you just lie there all day listening to his slow, lazy voice read you the words of Harper Lee's famous novel, kissing him under the shade of the trees in his backyard and whispering his name like a prayer and not resisting in the least as he tugs the soft, cotton material of your shirt up over your head, the next you're skipping down your home's walkway to get your mail and you find a letter that offers you a job that you know you've got to take, and when he shows up moments later to find you staring at it in shock, he wraps you up in a big hug from behind and kisses your neck and whispers that you have to go, and you realize that you're going to be leaving him.

One week you're on a road trip to see a concert and it's just days of driving along bumpy roads, staring up at the stars, making love in the backseat of your car, promising forever to one another because you can't imagine any other way to live, the next you're back home and returning to reality

One month you're goofing around with all your best friends on a basketball court by the river, still flying high of just-graduated bliss, the next you're fetching coffee for snobby, stupid record execs and only dreaming of your hometown.

One year you're talking to him late into the night, whispering how much you love him and how much you miss him and how much you want him, and the next he's not yours to love or miss or want anymore, even though a lot of the time you still do.

One second you're just standing there idly sorting through papers that rest on your small, insignificant desk, the next your knee are giving out and you're collapsing on the floor, steeped in so much pain that you can't even tell exactly what hurts, and everything's a blur of _oh my God_s and paramedics and wishing there was someone here to hold your hand and pain, pain, pain. One minute you're lying there in a ball of agony, the next a man with kind eyes has his hand on your wrist and is hastily asking you questions. One hour you're lying on a cot with an IV stuck in your arm, looking away while a nurse draws blood, the next you're no longer in so much pain and sitting with a doctor who's asking question after question. One day you're stuck in the hospital for eight hours only to return home exhausted and scared and teary-eyed, the next you're returning to get some more tests done. One week you spend nearly every day in and out of this lab or that lab while people constantly demand samples of every fluids your body's got, and there are tubes down your throat and under your nose and you're throwing up dye from x-rays and scopes and who knows what else, the next you're returning to the hospital after another sleepless night because they've promised that they'll finally have your diagnosis. And when you finally sift through all the medical terms and decipher the message in the doctor's regretful eyes, you ask bluntly you long you've got, and the answer horrifies you a little bit because it comes in months, not even close to a year.

All you can do is listen, just barely, to your treatment options, while you stare at the floor and fight back tears born of anger and grief, thinking of all you once wanted and all you don't have and all you'll never get, contemplating how very easily things change.


	2. Desire, Cemetery, Elysian Fields

**A/N:** Thanks for all the great feedback on the prologue, you guys are absolutely wonderful. :)

**Chapter One**

"_They told me to take a streetcar named 'Desire', transfer to one called 'Cemetery', ride six blocks and get off at Elysian Fields."_

-- Blance DuBois in Tennessee Williams' A Streetcar Named Desire

Peyton sighed as she entered her apartment, tossing her keys aside and collapsing backward onto her couch, legs stretched out across the length of it. She covered her face with her hands and just concentrated on breathing for a few minutes, in and out, in and out. When she finally let her hands fall away they were wet with the moisture of tears she hadn't known she'd cried.

She needed to call someone. It seemed like the logical step, to inform someone who cared of her suffering, but she didn't know who to call and she didn't know how to say it. Her friends in L.A. weren't really friends, they weren't really much of anything. She toyed with the idea of calling her father, but she couldn't tell him that she was dying over the phone. She wasn't sure if she could tell him at all; her mother's death has devastated him enough for one lifetime.

"I'm dying," she whispered into her empty apartment. The words sounded strange and heavy and ugly in the room filled with artwork and CDs and the bright light of the Los Angeles sun. She laughed bitterly as she stood up and closed her curtains. Those words, that fact, changed everything. Once she said it to someone there wouldn't be any going back.

She took a moment to think about what she wanted to do. Three days before the beginning of her time in and out of the hospital, she'd seriously contemplated getting a cat. Her apartment felt so very empty that it tugged at her heartstrings. She longed for some company, someone to care for and watch over. She wanted some kind of acknowledgment when she came home each day. She'd thought she might get two, so they wouldn't be lonely when she was at work. She'd laughed at herself for becoming a crazy cat lady, but she was serious about it.

Obviously, that wasn't going to happen now. She wouldn't be able to care for and watch over two innocent animals if she was dead.

Reminding herself to breathe again, she thought about all of the other things she'd dared to hope for. She'd wanted to rescue those two cats from a shelter, she wanted to make enough money to afford to visit Brooke in New York and live the good life for a week or two. She wanted to be there for Jamie Scott's first basketball game, and his wedding, and everything in between. She wanted to have a house of her own one day. She wanted to buy a ridiculously expensive but ridiculously beautiful piece of artwork. She wanted to go to a bar with a great band one night and drink a martini and catch the eye of a guy across the room, and she wanted him to be an artist or a musician or just someone who cared about her, and she wanted to let him make her giggle the way she only did when she was being a total girl, and she wanted to fall in love again. She wanted to get married and she wanted to have kids.

Peyton shook her head. She was getting far too far ahead of herself into a future that she no longer had. She needed to focus on what she wanted to do _now_, present tense, present time. Should she travel, see all the great sights of the world, the Taj Mahal and the Eiffel Tower and the pyramids and the Himalayas? Should she make a bucket list and do all the crazy things she hadn't previously had the courage for? Should she dedicate her remaining time to finding a great musician for the label or making her best piece of artwork yet? Should she go and spend weeks, or maybe months, with her dad?

As she wandered into her kitchen in search of something to eat, she thought of her doctor's parting words after Peyton had insisted repeatedly that she didn't want to pursue chemo or radiation or anything that would extend her life but make it more painful. _Whatever you choose to do, Peyton, you should make the decisions that will make you happiest._ She glanced at the small pile of bottles of prescription medication on her counter and tried to think of what made her happy. Biting her lower lip as she wracked her brains, she tried to pinpoint the last moment she had really and truly felt good and entirely _hopeful_ about her life.

As she closed her refrigerator door, she caught sight of the picture she'd stuck on there what seemed like forever ago and had never taken down. The frame was crammed with the faces of those she loved, her best friends on the last day they'd all spent together after senior year of high school. Her fingers traced lightly over their faces, Bevin and Skills and Mouth and Fergie, Brooke and Haley and Nathan…and Luke. She looked at her own face, her own smile, full of love and life. She'd been on the cusp of everything good. She was in love, she was loved, she was pursuing music, she had her art, her friends were wonderful, she was at home, and…Luke. There was always Luke.

_Home_. She mulled the word over as she pulled a box of cereal out of the cupboard. She poured some of the cereal into a bowl and added milk, still deep in thought. Maybe she needed to go home, back to the place where she had laughed under the stars and felt so full of possibility.

Abandoning her food, she grabbed her phone and hesitated only for a moment before dialing Brooke's number at her permanent Tree Hill address, where she'd been spending more time as of late. Before Peyton had been offered an official position at Sire Records, she'd been planning on moving back home and moving in with her best friend until she and Luke found a place of their own, as he was still in school and living with Nathan, Haley, and Jamie. There wasn't an answer, and she heard the familiar sound of the message she and Brooke had recorded years go. It was messy: their voices overlapped and they argued and burst out laughing halfway though. But they'd left it that way because they loved how it sounded. Brooke still hadn't changed it, insisting that still loved hearing it whenever she checked her messages.

Listening to it two years after it had been recording, standing in her kitchen and counting down the days to her death without really meaning to, she knew with certainty that home was where she needed to be.

xxx

"I quit."

Her boss turned slowly to face her, one eyebrow lazily arched. "What _now_, Sawyer?" he asked exasperatedly. "I know you grew up in a small town and you have all these big beliefs, but you've _got_ to play the _game_. You've got good instincts, Sawyer, I won't deny that. You could be very, very good at all of this – you could have much more than you do, if you'd just remember that this is _business_." He paused, eyeing her up and down. "Tell you what. Drop a couple buttons on that shirt and I'll let you sit in on a meeting this afternoon."

Peyton sighed, crossing her arms over her chest. "I quit," she repeated firmly, and turned to go.

"Sawyer!" her boss called. When she turned back to face him, she saw a strange mixture of shock and pride in his eyes. "You're making a mistake."

Peyton shook her head, smiling sadly to herself, thinking of just how wrong he was. "No," she said softly. "I'm fixing one."

xxx

Once she made the decision to leave, everything fell together seamlessly. She put her apartment on the market and packed her things – her favourite clothes, her photo albums, her records from Ellie, and her most meaningful drawings. She sold her furniture to a nearby junk-y store and donated the money to her local animal shelter, hoping that it would aid the cats that would never get to be hers. The rest of her things, she donated to charity. It would all be useless to her soon enough.

After she booked a one-way plane ticket for the next day, she curled up on the couch under a couple blankets and sipped red wine, delicately holding the photograph that had spent over two years on her fridge. She ran her index finger along the semi-tattered corner and sighed. She felt so detached from the faces that stared back at her, from Nathan and Haley and the life they'd built, from Brooke and all her fame and success, from Luke and everything he had without her. And most of all, she felt incredibly detached from herself, of who she'd once been.

She fell asleep curled up in a ball on her couch, her one remaining piece of furniture, the picture clutched tightly in her hand. She woke up with a cramp in her hand from holding on so tightly, and she wondered if that girl she was clinging to was even a part of her anymore.

xxx

Her flight was, miraculously, perfectly on time. She marched through security obediently and efficiently, handed over her boarding pass, and found her seat on the plane with relative ease, anxious to reach her destination. She pretended to listen to the instructions about oxygen masks and life jackets and emergency lighting systems, but she really couldn't have cared less about her own safety in the event of a crash. Cynically and bitterly, she thought that it wouldn't make much difference in the grand scheme of things. Goodbyes had never been her strong suit anyway.

Though the journey wasn't an excessively long one, she dozed off almost instantly and slept through the entire flight, dreaming disjointedly about her old boss and his advisory of _you're making a mistake_ and her father sitting with his head in his hands in the waiting room at Tree Hill's hospital all those years ago, track marks in her veins from IVs and blood tests, a blonde-haired toddler throwing his or her arms around her legs, a huge house with an ocean view and a canvas painted entirely in red hanging in the front hall, and two sad, scruffy kittens. When she woke up at the pilot's announcement that they were beginning their descent, her cheeks felt tight with the remnants of tears she'd cried in her sleep.

She wiped angrily at her cheeks, hating herself for moping over this. She was _not_ going to spend the next five months sobbing and feeling sorry for herself. She was not going to be that girl.

Dimly, she realized that she hadn't told anyone besides her boss, her landlord, and a couple co-workers that she was leaving L.A. No one would care. No one would miss her. A lump formed in her throat and she swallowed hard. "It's okay," she whispered to herself. This was why she was going home. She was going home to people who'd care if they lost her. As she blinked back the tears begging to fall, she made the decision that she wasn't going to tell her friends. A small, nagging part of her insisted that that was a bad idea, and that it was unfair to them, and maybe even to her. But that just wasn't the way she wanted to spend her last weeks of life. Brooke would cry and Haley would be maternal as always, trying to analyze her stages of grief and talking about closure and offering her shoulder to cry on. Nathan would be awkward and miserable and defensive and Jamie wouldn't understand. And Luke… She knew how he once would have reacted. He would have been furious with God and the world and her doctors and anyone who could possibly take the blame. He would have insisted that there was _something_ that could be done. He would refuse to lose her. He would cry and scream and fight this for her.

But she didn't know him anymore, and she didn't know how much he would be bothered to care.

And maybe that, was what scared her most of all.

So the decision was made: no one needed to know.

xxx

By the time she found herself walking toward baggage claim, she was undeniably exhausted. She could feel her disease wearing down her body and while she hated it, she thought she could probably use a nap. Now that she was hear it was hardly the time to give up, and while she'd refused any major treatments, she was going to take her pills and make sure to take care of herself.

It took more effort than it should have to lug her one suitcase of the luggage carousel. Her other things were in one very big box that was supposed to arrive later in the week. She set it down with a sigh of relief, tugging her sleeves down lest they slide up and reveal the left over bruises from all the IVs she'd had stuck into her body lately. She tugged the handle on her bag upward and began to wheel it after her as she headed for the exit.

Moments later, she stopped in her tracks a few feet from the doors that opened into the outside world at the sight of a very familiar face. She stared at him, stunned and smiling, unsure of how on earth he'd managed to find out that she was coming home, and that she'd be there at this specific time. For a mortified moment, she wondered if he'd come for someone else and if the yellow roses he held weren't for her after all, and she felt her cheeks flaming up.

Then, as if he'd read her mind, he rolled his eyes and grinned at her. He jerked his chin out slightly, indicating that she should move toward him, and called, "Get your ass over here, Sawyer!"

She hurried toward him as fast as she could with her bag in tow, and the moment she got close enough to released it and threw her arms around his neck. He picked her up and swung her around with ease, making her squeal in breathless surprise as the roses her held got squished in between their bodies. She laughed when he set her back on her feet and leaned up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "_Hey_, you," she said, unable to stop her smile as he handed her the roses.

"Welcome home," he returned.

"How the hell did you know I'd be here?"

Nathan shrugged. "Haley called you but she couldn't get a hold of you, so then she called your work, and then your boss went on some sort of rant, but basically she gathered that you'd quit your job. So, you know Haley…she started panicking, thinking something awful happened to you or something, so she _somehow_ managed to track down the number of one of your landlord, who said you'd mentioned something about coming home. And since all your stuff was gone and you were gone, she figured your flight left today, and it turns out there's only one flight today so…here I am." He cracked a grin as he finished his lengthy explanation. "But would you believe me if I said I'd just been standing around this airport with fresh flowers everyday, hoping that soon enough you'd show that skinny ass of yours around here again someday?"

She laughed. "Always eloquent, aren'tcha, Nate?" Her smile softened and she tilted her head to the side, hoping that her eyes didn't look as tired and sore as they felt. "But yeah, of course I would've believed you."

"It's been too long, Peyton," he said seriously.

"Not _that_ long."

"Still too long," he insisted, reaching behind her to grab the handle of his bag. "You're home for good?"

Her smile faltered, but only for an instant. "Yep. For good."

Nodding happily, he looped an arm around her shoulders as they headed outside. "Haley and I would totally love to have you, but we figured you'd probably crash with Brooke, since your name's already on the answering machine and everything," he teased.

"Yeah, that's the plan. I couldn't get a hold of her, today or yesterday, though…"

"Hey, don't worry about it. She'd never throw you out or anything. We've all missed you."

His words warmed her heart. "I've missed you guys, too. And I'm not worried about where I'm going to stay as much as I'm worried about _her_."

Nathan smirked. "Don't bother. I'll bet you one hundred bucks she's with Julian."

"Ah, yes, the guy," Peyton replied sagely, watching as Nathan heaved her bag into the back of his SUV. "Is he worthy?"

"Seems pretty cool, actually," he said calmly as he walked her to the passenger side of the car and opened up her door.

"Dude," she admonished in amazement as she settled into the car, "if you'd been like this when we were dating, all roses and car doors, I never would've let you go."

Nathan chuckled, but his laugher faded away quickly as he looked her over, and his lips curved downward into a frown.

She sucked in some air and forced herself to laugh, though it sounded nervous and shaky. "What?"

"You're thin," he stated.

"This from the guy who just made a comment about my skinny ass…"

"No, Peyton, seriously, you look…really thin."

She bit her lip until she drew blood. When Nathan said 'seriously', he meant it.

"Are you…are you okay?"

"Of course."

He seemed to choose his words carefully. "You, um…you know, it's okay if you're not. If you need help, with anything…if you're, um, having…_food_ issues…"

She burst out laughing, more from relief than anything else. "Nathan, my God. How long have you known me? I've _always_ been thin; and jeez, you've seen me eat! No anorexia, no bulimia." She held up her hands as if to prove her innocence. "I swear."

Nathan sighed in bashful relief. "Right, okay, so now that I've made an ass of myself…"

"Stop. You were being sweet." She smiled encouragingly. "Let's just go, okay?"

She kept up steady conversation through the drive. She was uneasy about lying to him and knew that it was only going to get more difficult with her other friends, and she hated how jumpy it made her, but she wasn't willing to tell them the whole story. She would just do her best to behave as normally as possible. It was going to be fine. It had to be.

"Where's Hales right now?" she asked.

"At school. She's got midterms to correct."

"Her kids must love her."

"Yeah, they really do. She's the cool teacher."

"And the hot teacher, I bet." She wiggled her eyebrows and laughed at the way his jaw tightened. "Don't you dare judge; _you_ fell for your tutor."

He relaxed and gave her a half-grin. "Yeah, I guess I did."

"C'mon, stop making me ask questions! Tell me everything about that beautiful baby boy of yours. Not a baby anymore, huh?"

She listened to him talk about Jamie's little life, his successes and his trials and his general awesomeness as a kid, beaming with pride. She relaxed, leaning back and letting his words wash over her as she closed her eyes. The song playing softly under the tones of their conversation changed and her eyes flew open as she cut him off with a cry of "Oh, no, Nate; no _way_!"

"Haley never lets me listen to it when she's in the car," he whined immediately.

"Yeah, well, you married a smart woman," she retorted, reaching out to change the song. The car swerved and she gasped, her finger hitting the wrong button. "What was that?" she demanded frantically, looking up to catch his eye.

He focused on the road but kept stealing glances at her. "What the hell is wrong with your hand?" he asked urgently.

Wincing internally, she glanced down at her wrist, partially bandaged and covered in purple-y black bruises. It looked pretty bad; her veins produced bruises easily. Her sleeve had moved up when she'd reached out. "Nathan, it's nothing," she said quietly, tugging her sleeve down again.

Ignoring her unconvincing reply, he pulled onto the shoulder of the road and stopped the car, unbuckling his seatbelt as he turned to face her. "I want you to tell me what the fuck is going on." His eyes signaled a quick series of mental calculations before he blurted, "Oh, God, are you running from a _guy_? Did someone _do_ this to you?" he asked, his tone of voice rising as he gestured to his wrist.

"No, God, no!" she said quickly, and that one exclamation felt like it had drained her of all her energy. "I just bruise easily."

"But from _what_?" he growled.

She sighed and figured she should be relieved that she was having this conversation with Nathan rather than Lucas. "I…gave blood."

"You gave blood?" he asked skeptically.

"Yep," she said firmly. "I gave blood and then I fainted, so they gave me an IV, and I just happen to bruise really easily, that's all. It's really nothing."

"Most people don't need IVs after they faint. What was in it?" he challenged her.

"I don't know," she told him calmly, hating the string of lies she was already creating. "But I was half out of it, who was I to argue?" She caught his eyes and smiled softly. "Now, can you get me to Brooke's house without trying to diagnose me with some other crazy problem?"

Blowing out his breath, he laughed slightly. "Yeah, I guess I can. Sorry I freaked."

She shrugged. "Thanks for caring."

xxx

"Brooke!" Peyton yelled as she and her bags tumbled through the front door of the house. She laughed at herself as she tripped over her purse and closed the door behind her. She leaned back against it and grinned. "I'm home!"

"_P. Sawyer_?!" Brooke exclaimed, surprise and excitement mingling together in her exclamation. She charged out of her room, squealed, and threw her arms around the blonde in an enthusiastic hug. "Oh my God, you're _here_, what are you _doing _here?! When Haley told me I didn't really believe it!" She pulled back, eyes bright as she awaited Peyton's answers.

"I'm…I'm home. For good," she added, locking eyes with her best friend and smiling. "That's really all there is to it. I wanted to come home."

"Peyton…" Brooke tackled her into another tight hug. "You don't even know how happy that makes me. I've missed you so much."

"I've missed you, too."

"What about…L.A.? And your job? What about…all of that?"

Peyton shrugged. "I just…I guess I don't care," she admitted. "I just wanted to be happy."

The brunette nodded, a smile slowly lighting up her face. "Here's the place for that," she assured her friend. She sighed and hugged her one last time. "I'm so glad you're here."

She nodded, hugging back. "It feels right."

Brooke released her, grinning, and bounded over to Peyton's back, setting it upright and wheeling it down the hall. "Come on, let's get you unpacked. You look tired, did you have to get up really early for your flight or something?"

"Uh, yeah, something like that…" Peyton muttered vaguely as she followed Brooke into what was always meant to be her room. "Oh." She smiled. "It's just like I remember it."

Together, they lifted her bag onto the bed and unzipped it. Brooke sat at its side and started assessing items of clothing as she pulled them out. She winked at Peyton, shrugging sweetly. "I always knew you'd come back."

Peyton opened her closet and pulled out a few hangers, smiling appreciatively and choosing to ignore her tiredness for the time being. "Enough about me. We have so much to catch up on, and I wanna talk about _you_, B. Davis."

"Me? What about me?" Brooke asked innocently.

Peyton threw a shirt at her. "Don't play coy. The guy, tell me about the guy!"

She grinned bashfully. "He, um…he's really, really great, P. His name is Julian, and he produces these indie films – you'll totally love him, you two can talk about all that artsy crap – and he has this perfect grin that always makes me melt and he's just so nice but also not too nice and funny and totally gorgeous and…" She trailed off, sighing to herself.

Peyton set down the shoes she'd just pulled from her bag and rested her palms against the mattress as she leaned toward her friend. "Brooke Davis," she marveled quietly, "You are so in love."

Brooke dropped the jeans she was holding, hopping up and shaking her head even as she smiled.

"Brooke!"

"Maybe," she conceded quietly with an impish grin. "But…you look like you need some sleep, so I'll just let you do that." She bounded out of the room.

Peyton stared at the spot she'd just stood incredulously. "This conversation is not over, Brooke Penelope Davis!" she yelled. "I know where you live!"

Brooke poked her head back in, still smiling. "You know where _we_ live," she corrected. "Oh, and Peyton?"

"What is it?" she asked, surprised by the sudden gentleness of Brooke's tone.

"Yeah."

"Yeah…what?"

Brooke rolled her eyes. "_Yeah_."

"I don't…I'm not understanding."

"Yeah, as in, that's the answer to the question you're asking with every part of you but your mouth."

"What does that mean?" Peyton demanded defensively, honestly at a loss but with an inkling toward what her friend was getting to.

Brooke smiled knowingly. "It means, honey, that _yeah_, he knows you're home."


	3. The Blessing and the Curse

**A/N:** I'm constantly blown away by your feedback! A lot of you have already said that you're sure that this is going to be a tearjerker, but that's it's going to be good, which is totally sweet of you, and I hope I can live up to your expectations. I'm excited about it, I must admit, so that's why I've stolen some hours away from my scheduled study time to provide you with an update! It might be a little longer before the next one, though, I've got to warn you. I'd love it if you'd take the time to review – getting your input always makes my day. :)

Oh, and Happy OTH Day!

**Chapter Two**

_I have set before thee life and death,_

_the blessing and the curse._

_Therefore choose life._

-- Deuteronomy 30:19

The next morning, Peyton woke up in Brooke's bed, still wearing her jeans and t-shirt from the day before, one of her legs tucked under a blanket. Two abandoned wine glasses sat on the floor next to an empty bottle of pricey wine, and the movie channel was still playing quietly on the television. Brooke was lost in dreamland, her pace partially burrowed into her pillow. She still slept like she had when they were little kids, limbs everywhere, snoring, and it made Peyton's dry lips curve into a lazy smile as she threw all the blankets over her friend's body before she gingerly got up and headed into her own room.

She dug through her purse for the four pills she'd been instructed to take each day, which were tucked into the pocket of her bag next to a piece of paper, upon which was written the name and phone number of the oncologist who'd agreed to take her on as a patient. She still hadn't made up her mind as to whether or not she was going to call him.

She wandered into the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, and took her medication. She walked through the house as she finished off her drink, smiling at the pictures of grinning Jamie Scott wrapped up in his godmother's arms that adorned the wall. Pausing in front of a mirror, she grimaced at the sight of her own reflection. She looked kind of awful. Nathan had been right, she _was_ really thin, and the dark circles under her eyes seemed to grow deeper each day. The past week of uncertainty and physical torment had taken its toll. She was determined to look better now, because she was determined to _feel_ better now.

Back in her room, she shed yesterday's clothes and pulled on a dark red dress, throwing on a lightweight grey sweater to hide the bruises on her arms. She put on enough makeup to disguise her tiredness and brushed her hair, leaving it down so that her curls tumbled onto her shoulders. Anxious to do something productive rather than just sitting around wasting time, she decided to make Brooke breakfast.

She found some pancake mix in one of the cupboards and got to work. She cut up some melon and peeled some oranges, getting more and more into her task. When she saw that there were both strawberries and bananas, she knew immediately that she wanted to make smoothies. She put all the necessary ingredients into the blender and turned it on, smiling to herself as she looked around the bright, airy room. Back here, back at home, she felt totally safe and almost successful and close to happy, and that was all she could have asked for.

Less than a minute after she thought she might be happy here for the next few months, for the rest of her life, the blender exploded behind her. Gasping, she spun around and groped for the button to make the flying, fruity mess and the high-pitched whirring sound stop. Half-mixed strawberry banana smoothie was on every surface of the kitchen, coating every surface with pale pink, small, icy chunks. The sight of the mess made tears spring to her eyes, but she knew deep down that she was crying for bigger reasons than a broken blender.

"_Damn_ it," she muttered, flinging the plastic lid of the blender across the room. This was exactly how she _didn't_ want things to be, crying over kitchen machinery.

"I don't know what went wrong here…but I'm pretty sure it's not worth a pretty girl crying over," a male voice commented, teasing but somehow gentle.

She whirled around, ready with a retort, but the words died on her tongue when he shot her a grin. She relaxed, brushing her hair out of her face and planting her hands on her hips. "You must be Julian."

"And you must be Peyton Sawyer," he returned.

She nodded and eyed him over. "So you're the boyfriend."

"So you're the best friend," he mimicked her, not unkindly.

"You know, flirting with me upon first meeting doesn't exactly get you a lot of points," she informed him.

His grin only widened. "Guess that tactic's gone."

Peyton studied him for a moment. "She seems to really like you," she finally stated, testing him.

Nodding seriously, he replied, "Well, good, 'cause I really like her, too."

"She doesn't always have the best luck with guys."

He chuckled to himself. "It's gonna take you a while to like me, huh?"

She arched one eyebrow and nodded.

"Well…how about I help you clean up?"

Peyton tossed him a cloth. "Are you expecting me to immediately warm up to you because you're charming and you _offer_ to help rather than being asked?"

Julian smirked cheekily as he sopped up some of the mess with his cloth. "Will you?"

She could feel her eyes softening as she regarded him. "Maybe just a little bit," she admitted grudgingly, turning his back to him as she reached for a roll of paper towels.

Between the two of them, it didn't take long for the kitchen to look normal again. Julian gathered the pieces of the blender up and put them into a garbage bag while she finished wiping down the counters.

"Good as new," he announced as he dried his hands.

"Thanks for your help," Peyton said earnestly, biting her lower lip. "Um, Julian, I know this might sound weird, and I know we just met, but, um…could you…"

"Not tell Brooke about this?" he supplied, sensing that it might take her a while to get the question out.

She sighed. "Yeah."

Julian nodded slowly, studying her face, well aware that there was a deeper reason behind the crying she'd been doing when he walked in. "Okay. Sure, no problem."

Brooke stepped out of her bedroom that moment as if on cue with a red bathrobe over the clothes she'd fallen asleep in, carrying both wine glasses. "P. Sawyer, I am _never_ going to get the wrinkles out of this shirt," she whined as she inspected the silky blouse she was wearing. "I can't believe you let me fall asleep like this!"

"Sorry," Peyton said, laughing lightly. "B., look who's here."

The brunette's entire face lit up when she saw her boyfriend, and she kissed him immediately, arms twined around his neck even though she still held the wine glasses. "Hey!" she said happily.

"Hey," Julian returned, awarding her a private grin that made her blush.

"I see you've met my best friend in the whole wide world," Brooke added as she released him and walked over to set the glasses in the sink. She wrapped an arm around Peyton. "Almost as pretty as me, huh?"

Julian winked at Peyton. "Almost."

Brooke gave him an adoring look. "What brings you buy so early?"

He shrugged. "Just thought I could make you girls breakfast."

Peyton watched as her best friend melted, walking back over to Julian and tucking herself in his arms. Something panged within her chest, and she felt the usual overwhelming mixture of emotions she always felt when reminded of her broken heart, guilt and regret and yearning and love and anger and sadness and a powerful kind of wishful thinking. She sighed.

"Hey, listen," she began. "I made breakfast already, but why don't you two just eat it? I'm not that hungry anyway, and I kind of want to visit casa Naley."

"You sure?" Brooke asked, frowning worriedly.

"Yeah." Peyton grabbed her purse and gave Brooke's elbow a squeeze. "I'll be back soon. Nice to meet you, Julian," she added over her shoulder.

"You, too," he called after her.

The moment the door closed he turned his attention to Brooke. "Does she hate me?"

"What? No," she laughed.

"She just…she seems _sad_."

His girlfriend smiled wryly. "Peyton has never been that great at the whole happiness thing. But she'll be okay. I think she just needs to find what she's looking for."

"And what's that?"

Her smile widened as she leaned into him, letting their noses brush. "Something kinda like how you make me feel."

"Something like that?" he asked with a small grin of his own.

"Something a lot like this," she confirmed, and kissed him soundly.

xxx

The sight that greeted Peyton when she walked through Nathan and Haley's door was not the one she'd been expecting. Instead of finding the family gathered around the breakfast table or lounging on the couch in front of Saturday morning cartoons, Haley and Jamie were in the hallway by the kitchen with music playing at its loudest volume, energetically and laughingly doing the Soulja Boy dance to _Crank Dat_. It made Peyton laugh as she leaned against the wall. Haley looked great, her hair in dark waves and her eyes bright, and Jamie was so much bigger than Peyton remembered him, full of energy and enthusiasm and totally cute.

"Hey, you dancing fools!" she called over the music. Haley whirled around at the sound of her voice and Peyton grinned. "Nice moves, Haley James."

Planting her hands on her hips, Haley allowed a playful smile to light up her face as she said sternly, "That's Haley James _Scott_ to you, missy."

"Ever so sorry," Peyton replied dramatically, opening her arms.

Haley rushed over to her, arms outstretched. Peyton could feel the other woman's smile as they hugged. "Hey, foxy," she said.

"Hey, Blondie," Haley returned sweetly pulling back to look at her. "God, it's good to see you again! I can't believe you didn't tell me you were coming home!"

"It was…kind of a…snap decision."

"Well, it was a good one. We've missed you."

Peyton nodded. "I've missed you guys, too." Her eyes drifted over to Jamie. "Haley, wow, he's…"

Haley smiled in gentle understanding. "Jamie! Hey, bud, turn that down and come over here and say hi."

He did as told and rushed over, skidding to a stop next to where his mother stood. "Hi," he said simply.

"Baby," Haley said, her fingers slipping into his hair, "this is your Aunt Peyton."

"Hey, kiddo," Peyton greeted him, crouching down so that they were eye level. "I bet you don't remember me, huh?"

He shook his head.

"That's okay. You are _much_ more grown up than you were the last time I saw you. How old are you, eight?"

He beamed, laughing, "I'm four."

"_Four_?" Her eyes widened. "Wow, I would've thought you were older."

"Wanna see me play basketball?" he offered happily.

"Sounds great."

"Cool! Momma, can we go outside?"

Haley smiled fondly at him. "You go ahead, little man, but be careful, okay? We'll be out in a second."

"Okay!" He was out the door before the last syllable had left his lips.

Peyton straightened up and shook her head, watching him run off. "He's got some serious energy. Definitely Nate's kid."

"Tell me about it," Haley laughed, walking into the kitchen and indicating that Peyton should follow. She opened the fridge and pulled out a pitcher of lemonade. "So, you have to tell me all about life in L.A.! I feel like we never talk anymore."

"Life in L.A.…" Peyton laughed. "Honestly, it kinda sucked. I'm really glad to be home."

"We're glad to have you home."

Peyton took a plate of cookies from Haley and followed her friend outdoors. "So, uh, you let your four-year-old listen to Soulja Boy?" she asked sceptically.

"Don't get me started," Haley groaned. "You know Nathan's coaching the Ravens, right? Well, Jamie absolutely adores the boys on that team, and they got him into it. And I figured…if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, right? Besides, it'll be…what, another fifteen years? At least that long, before he understands the lyrics."

"More like ten years," Peyton told her apologetically.

Haley winced, "Ah, I can't hear that! He's my baby, you know? It's hard to think of him growing up. I mean, I was _married_ at sixteen, and that's twelve years away for him."

"Hales…" Peyton placed her hand over her friend's as they sat down in two lounge chairs. "Normal kids don't get married at sixteen. I wouldn't worry too much."

"Ha ha," Haley replied dryly.

"Momma!" Jamie bellowed. "Aunt Peyton! Did you see me dunk!?"

"Yeah, buddy, way to go!" Haley called back, smiling widely.

Peyton studied her friend, a smile playing on her lips. "You look happy," she said softly.

Haley turned to look at her. "Yeah, I…I really am. Do you ever want this?" she inquired impulsively, gesturing toward Jamie.

Her breath caught in her throat and she was left momentarily speechless. "I…" she finally managed to choke out.

Wincing on her behalf, Haley said quietly, "Hey, I'm sorry. Touchy subject, right? I wasn't thinking."

"No, it's okay," Peyton said hurriedly the moment she found her voice. "I just…of course I want that."

Haley locked eyes with her. "Hey. You'll get it," she promised. "One day, someday, I know you will. Look at Jamie, he adores you already. You're gonna be a great mom. I know it."

"Yeah…" Peyton breathed, looking away. She swallowed hard and reminded herself not to cry as she artfully switched topics. "So, listen, I kind of came here with an ulterior motive."

"Uh-oh." Haley said, looking intrigued as she propped her elbow on the arm of her chair, turning her body toward Peyton and resting her chin in her hand. "I'm listening."

She took a deep breath and scrunched up her face in nervous anticipation. "I want to make your next record."

Haley's brow furrowed and she laughed. "What?"

"I want to make your next record," Peyton repeated, allowing herself a small smile.

"Are you crazy?" Haley half-laughed.

"No, I'm totally serious. Haley, come on!" she cried when her friend shook her head. "I _know_ you have it in you. I _know_ it."

"Peyton…I mean, God, thanks for believing in me, hon, but…I don't know. I've got my kids at school and Jamie and Nathan and I really have to work to get time to ourselves…I just don't know if this is the right time."

"Haley, look at you. You've got this great guy and you're beautiful boy, a job that you love, this kickass house…now is the time to take a risk and try something for yourself."

"I don't know if I can do it," she confessed, shrugging.

"You _can_, and I can help you. I've still got contacts in L.A., and while it's not going to be the world's easiest thing, I know I can get this to work." She sighed, looking at Haley encouragingly. "C'mon. Please let me help you do this."

Haley sighed, running her index finger over the rim of her empty glass. "You really want this?"

"I really, _really_ do," Peyton stressed. "It'd be my first real accomplishment in life," she added, only half-joking.

"Don't say that," Haley berated her seriously, switching her tone as she teased, "I mean, who can brag about being a regular artist for _Thud_?"

"Shut up," Peyton laughed, swatting at Haley lazily across the distance between their chairs. "So…what do you say?"

Haley heaved a dramatic sigh. Throwing her head back, she conceded, "_Fine_."

"Yes!" Peyton cheered.

"I'm doing it for you," Haley insisted seriously, but her frown quickly flipped itself around. "And maybe…a little bit for me."

"Sounds perfect," Peyton said happily, relaxing as she sat back in her chair.

"So…" Haley grinned wickedly, eager to gossip. "Did you meet Julian yet?"

xxx

"Hey, Luke," Haley greeted her best friend cheerfully, walking through his front door without preamble. She spotted his editor and smiled as she added, "Hey, Linds."

"Hey, Haley," the other woman said warmly. "How's your family?"

"We're all great, thanks." She flopped onto Lucas' bed, just a couple feet from where the two of them sat in front of his computer. "How goes the book business?"

Lindsey cast Lucas and playfully annoyed look. "Well, I had to come all the way to Tree Hill because _someone_'s being stubborn."

"Ah," Haley said sagely, grinning conspiratorially. "_Someone_ has always been like that."

"Okay." Lucas threw down the pen he was holding and sat back in his chair, frowning at them both. "_Someone_ is sitting right here."

Both women laughed and Lindsey stood up, gathering her things as she glanced at her watch. "Look, Luke, I've got to get back to New York…will you just _think_ about what we've talked about today? That's all I can ask of you, I guess."

He grinned cheekily. "I promise to _think_ about it."

Lindsey rolled her eyes. "You drive me _crazy_," she said through gritted teeth, leaning down to hug him. "I'm going to go call a cab."

"Next time you're in town, tell me so we can have lunch!" Haley called after her. The moment she knew that Lindsey was out of earshot, she sat up a bit more and said seriously, "So, Luke."

"So, Hales," he mocked her.

She frowned at him, telling him softly, "She's home. And I know that _you_ know that."

He shifted uncomfortably in his chair. "Okay, so she's home. I don't have to do anything about it."

"Yes, you do."

"Why?" he shot back at her, raising his eyebrows, challenging her.

"Because, you idiot," Haley said fondly, "we all know that you _want_ to."

Lucas looked at her for a long moment. "Have you seen her?" he asked softly, something vulnerable in his words.

Haley nodded. "Still the same Peyton."

He blew out his breath and rubbed the back of his neck nervously, muttering, "I was afraid of that."

"I know that she'd love to see you." Lucas didn't reply to that, so Haley tried a different approach. "She quit her job, in L.A., when she moved here…but she told me today that she still has the resources to make another record, and she wants…to make mine."

_That_ got a reaction. "Hales, wow, that's amazing! You have to do it. You're going to do it, right?"

"Maybe," she said evenly, daring him in the way she arched her eyebrows.

It took a moment for realization to set in, but when it did, he shook his head adamantly. "Oh, no. No, no, no."

"Yes," Haley replied sweetly, tilting her head to one side. "Yes, yes…yes."

"You're actually going to make me responsible for keeping Haley James Scott's second record from ever being produced?" he asked sceptically.

"Watch me," she said simply as she hopped off the bed. "But you know, you can fix this _very_ easily."

He frowned at her as she approached him for a hug. "You're serious? You want me to talk to her that badly?"

She winked at him as she pulled back from their embrace, looking his straight in the eye as she said, "We'll start with talking." She grinned at him just before she stepped out of the door. "You'll thank me for this one day. I promise." She shook her head at him, her smile softening as she spoke fondly. "Lucas, I love you, but one of these days you're going to have to stop hiding your heart. And…if blackmail's what's going to do it…then blackmail it is." She hurried out the door, leaving him alone to think over her parting words.

xxx

Peyton knew where she was going, but she wasn't quite prepared to admit it to herself. She let herself think that she was just going for a walk, wandering through the streets of her hometown, getting reacquainted.

And when she came to a stop across the street from Lucas Scott's house, she allowed herself to pretend that she was surprised to have ended up there.

She didn't really plan on demanding anything from him. Her mind had made a decision and intended to stick to it. She hadn't come home for Lucas. It wasn't really fair to either of them, for her to fight for them right now. But her heart had always demanded something from Lucas Scott, and she knew that that fact still remained true as she stood across the street and watched as he walked out of his house with his arm wrapped around another woman.

She was frozen, a broken statue, as she watched a cab pull up. She watched as Lucas put the woman's bag in the trunk, wrapped her up in one of those Lucas Scott hugs to which no other feeling could compare, and she watched as the woman kissed his cheek, smiling at him before she got into the car and drove off to what was, without doubt, a fabulous and impressive destination. She had the distinct feeling of having her heart caught halfway between its intended location and her throat, and it was making it difficult to both swallow and breathe. She wondered why Brooke and Haley, in all their hints toward Lucas, had failed to mention this beautiful girl in his company.

The cab pulled away, and she was still there, stuck in place, and he was still there on the other side of the road, shock clear in his eyes as blue clashed with green and she felt sparks fly.

For a minute she just looked at him. She'd missed him, and he looked familiar and changed all it once. He looked _good_, in a sweater and beat-up jeans and bare feet on the sidewalk, and she wondered if she looked good at all, bony limbs and hidden bruised wrists and tired eyes.

After a long silence during which they simply regarded each other, he said: "Hi."

He spoke so quietly that she wasn't exactly sure how she'd managed to pick up the sound all the way across the street. Maybe she'd just imagined, maybe she'd just wanted to hear it badly enough, but whatever it was, it broke down the barriers. She didn't even look both ways before she crossed the street, walking more swiftly and surely than she felt she should have been able to.

"Hi," she breathed in reply when she was finally standing in front of him.

"Hi," he repeated. His eyes were dancing, twinkling and sparkling with emotion. She might have caught the faintest hint of love and want and memory, combined together to form _I missed you_, but it might just have been a reflection from her own green orbs.

"Hi," she said stupidly, and then she laughed at herself. He laughed, too, a low chuckle at the back of his throat, and her whole body ached as it occurred to her that she only had a certain amount of time left to appreciate that perfect laugh.

"We should say something else, huh?" he asked nervously, giving her a half-smile.

"I don't know what," she admitted quietly, truthfully. Her mind was racing, converging on the thought that if she just reached between them right now, her fingertips would touch his.

"I…you…" Lucas sighed as if he was annoying himself. "You…you're home," he finally said.

She couldn't resist any longer. She reached out, tucking her arms under his, and hugged him. It wasn't a stupid thing to do, it _wasn't_. They could hug. They'd been friends once and they had the potential to be friends again; a hug made sense. It wasn't unheard of to hug an ex-lover. It wasn't ridiculous to want to hug the boy, the man, you'd once wanted forever with.

There was a beat, just long enough for her to doubt herself, and then he wrapped his arms around her fiercely, like he never intended to let go, his face buried into her neck.

Peyton sighed, inhaling his familiar smell. When she moved her lips to talk, they brushed against the fabric of his sweater. "Yeah," she whispered, squeezing her eyes shut, "I'm home."


	4. What Compels You

**A/N:** It might be suicide for my calculus mark, but your response to this story has been so great that it's got me inspired, and so I took some time to get an update together. You feed my ego and I've got to admit, I adore you all for it. I love receiving any honest criticisms as well, so let me know what you're thinking!

**Chapter Three**

_Separate yourself from what compels you to relinquish us._

-- The Honorary Title, _Stay Away_

Peyton's shoulders jumped up in surprise as Lucas gently draped an open zip-up hoodie around her body. Glancing up at him, she smiled slightly.

He shrugged as he joined her, sitting on his porch steps. "You looked cold," he said simply, handing her a mug of coffee.

She cradled the mug in her hands, absorbing its warmth. "You always take care of me," she mused. She hadn't really meant to say it out loud, but it was okay that he'd heard her. If there was anyone in the world she trusted with her most precious thoughts, it was the man sitting at her side, staring at the sun as it set, its final rays of light peeking at them in between the houses on the opposite side of the street.

She felt rather than saw the long look he gave her. Even when he was just looking at her in his peripheral vision, there was something about Lucas' gaze that could bore right down into her soul and find all her secrets.

"So, um…" She gulped down some coffee, wincing as the liquid hit her tongue and scorched down her throat. Too hot. "She's pretty."

His eyes widened as he looked at her. "Who?" he asked, genuinely confused.

Peyton smiled softly, setting her own heartache aside for the time being. "Your _girlfriend_. I saw her leave."

"Oh." He frowned. "Oh, right."

"What's her name?"

"Uh, Lindsey."

She bit her lower lip as she regarded him. He wasn't looking at her; rather, he'd chosen to stare at the sidewalk. "How long have you two been…"

Lucas shook his head as if he was trying to clear it. "I guess…a year."

She had to work not to laugh. It wasn't really amusement that she felt, he was just behaving so oddly and refusing to give her anything other than vague answers. They'd never had this much difficulty making conversation. "Soulmate, huh?" she asked him sarcastically.

He looked at her in that probing way again. "Why did you come back, Peyton?" he asked her slowly.

She scowled. What was he expecting her to say, that she'd come home for him, to sabotage his relationship and throw herself back into his world? "L.A.…it just wasn't right. I feel like I left looking for opportunity but maybe…maybe I really left opportunity behind." She sighed, pulling his sweater a little closer to her body. "I still haven't managed to do anything that…matters to anyone." She cleared her throat and threw him a friendly smile. "_Speaking_ of which…"

"You want to make Haley's next record," he guessed, reading her mind and finishing her thoughts like he used to.

"How'd you know?" she asked quietly, and she could feel _that _smile on her lips, the one she used to give him when he was being particularly endearing.

"She told me," he laughed. "I think she's excited about it."

"Yeah?" Her eyes widen hopefully. "Good. I definitely am."

"It's great that you've got the resources to do that for her."

"Well…it won't be easy. Those record executives have some crazy issue with understanding the importance of good music over money-making music," she scoffed. "But Haley's amazing, I think I can convince 'em."

Lucas' eyes were twinkling as he turned to look at her fondly. "You know what I love about you?"

Her breath caught in her throat and for a moment she didn't breathe. Realizing what he'd said, he broke eye contact and looked away from her, rubbing the back of his neck. "I mean…well, I didn't mean…"

She pulled his sweater even tighter to her body, tilting her head to the side, resting it against her shoulder as she regarded him, her nose buried in the material which smelled like him. "What do you love about me?" she whispered as evenly as she could, wishing that she could touch _him_ instead of his clothing. She knew that she'd drive herself crazy speculating; he needed to finish that sentence to ease her mind.

He cleared his throat. "That…that you can go and live in L.A. for years and come back…and still know the importance of good music over money-making music." He flashed her a secret smile before his eyes lit up. "You know, you should…"

"I should…?"

Lucas stood up, taking the mug from her hands and setting it next to his own on the steps. He extended both hand toward her to help her up. "Come on. Come with me."

She looked at him warily even as she placed her hands in his, trusting him completely. He released his grip on only one of her hands, using the other to pull her toward his car.

"You're going to love it," he promised.

"I hate surprises," she muttered, though she couldn't help but revel in the way his hand felt, enclosing hers. He closed it behind her as she settled into the passenger seat and he crouched down, his hands resting atop the door, so that they were eye level. "You're here; you surprised me." His expression was so eager. He was so beautiful, so familiar, so easy to love. He winked and she melted. "Now it's my turn. Fair is fair, Sawyer," he added as he straightened up and hurried around the car, leaping over the door on the driver's side and quickly putting the eyes in the ignition.

Tree Hill being the same town that it was, it didn't take long at all for them to reach their destination. They didn't speak to each other for the ride, they simply stared straight ahead and pretended that they weren't constantly stealing glances at one another in their peripheral vision.

"Tric, Luke?" she asked, baffled as she turned to him for an explanation when he parked. "I have been here before, you know."

He rolled his eyes. "Will you shut up already and follow me?"

He led her upstairs, into what used to be his mother's office space above the club. "What do you think?" he asked, excited and apprehensive.

Peyton crossed her arms but couldn't help but smile at him. "I think you need to start explaining yourself."

Lucas walked back toward her until there was only about a foot of space between them. "This could be your office space."

"I don't…I don't _need_ an office. I appreciate the gesture, but –"

"You _could_ need an office," he cut her off. "If you…had your own label."

Her jaw dropped. "Excuse me?"

"You should do it _yourself_," he said encouragingly, letting his hand skim over her arm momentarily. "It's like you just said. You know the difference between good music and that crap they're making L.A. You walked away from that for a _reason_, Peyt, and I think this is it," he said sincerely.

Her heart skipped a beat when he called her _Peyt_, and she smiled ruefully at him. "Luke, you are the sweetest…but that's not exactly the reason…"

"You're going to make Haley's record _anyway_, right? You've got contacts in Los Angeles that can help you out. _You_ could be the next big thing, you could speak to people and make them feel all that magic, the way you've _always_ wanted to. You could make the kind of music that you always thought could save you. Haley's record would be amazing, and it would only be the beginning of so much more. You should _do_ it."

Peyton's lips were trembling as she blinked rapidly. "I…I love the idea of it…"

"So then there's nothing holding you back."

"Lucas," she said softly, sighing. "It means the world to me that you'd think of this and that…that you'd want it for me…" She met his eyes hesitantly and shrugged. "I just don't know if I have the…time."

"The time?" He laughed, grinning at her, thinking that he'd already won. "Peyton, you're twenty years old, you've got decades ahead of you."

"_Luke_…" she breathed painfully, tears springing to her eyes as her throat seemed to close over.

"You can have this space, for free. I'll help you, I will. Just promise me you'll do it."

She shook her head the slightest bit, and to both her surprise and his own, he reached out to touch her, his hands skimming down her upper arms until they came to rest just above her elbows. "You _can_, I know you can. You deserve it, and everybody else deserves to hear what you can do. Just try it! Start with Haley's record and see how it goes." He cocked his head slightly to one side, his eyes swimming with concern and support. "Okay?" he asked her, almost tenderly, as he moved his thumb in one smooth stroke underneath one of her eyes, catching her tears.

Peyton opened her mouth to speak, but all she could give him was a breathless, watery smile. "'Kay," she murmured.

xxx

"Here's good," she said as he pulled over to the side of the road. "Thanks for the drive. And for…the office."

"_Your_ office," he corrected. "And…no problem."

"I'll…be seein' ya," she muttered, throwing a half-smile his way before she got out of the car, waving briefly at him before she made her way into the cemetery, her shoes sinking into the grass. She wandered by Keith's grave even though it wasn't all that close to her destination, pressing her fingers to her lips and brushing them against the headstone as she walked by.

When she reached Anna Sawyer's grave, she took a seat in the grass, a position so familiar that it was almost comforting. She smiled at nothing, touching the gravestone in front of her briefly as she whispered, "Hi, Mom."

She was silent for a long while. She just sat there, enjoying the peacefulness of the quiet that surrounded her, listening to the wind tease the leaves in the trees and the birds flit about overhead. She sighed heavily as she plucked up a blade of grass and twisted it around with her fingers until it snapped.

"So, um…I guess I'll be seeing you again a little sooner than either of us bargained for." Her lips made it halfway to a smile. She was surprised at how small and tight her voice sounded. "And I guess that's…good, right? Because I miss you everyday and…maybe it's easier." She swallowed hard. "I don't know, Mom. I have what you didn't have, I've got…I've got time to prepare for it and think about what I want to leave behind." She clenched her jaw momentarily. "Luke, um…he wants me to start my own label and produce Haley's next record. Crazy, right? I mean, the logistics are there. Lucas gave me an office space, and I know that Brooke would lend me the money in a heartbeat…so I guess I'm doing it, because neither of them will take no for an answer. And…I want to do it, I want to do something meaningful. I just want…to make something that will matter to someone else."

She gnawed on her lower lip as she glanced up toward the cloudless sky. Squeezing her eyes closed, she confessed, "Part of me wishes I hadn't come back. I know that it's right – I feel that in my heart and I know I can be happier here, I know I can do better things, and I know…that these people, these people that I love so much…Nathan and Haley…and _Jamie_…and Brooke, and…Luke…" Her voice cracked as she said his name. "They deserve a goodbye, right? They deserve that." She took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. "I want him to be happy, you know?" she asked in a broken whisper. "I want him…I want that girl that he's with to be the _one_ for him, and I want him to publish novels and teach kids amazing things and have that American dream, with the two-point-five kids and the white picket house. I want that for him. But thing is…the _thing_ is that even…even though I know that I've _got_ to say goodbye to him…I mean, God, there's a freaking timeline on my life, but I just…"

Peyton buried her face in her hands and sighed when she came up for air. "Mom, I don't know _how_ to say goodbye to _him_." She swallowed over the lump in her throat and wiped away her tears, laughing at herself. "I'm sorry. I'm okay. You don't have to…worry about me, or anything. But if you could maybe…" She inhaled and exhaled, slowly and rhythmically. "If you could put in a good word for me up there, I'd appreciate it."

Slowly, she stood up, dusting off her dress and smoothing it out. She crouched back down for a moment, fingertips pressed against the earth. "I know that…you wouldn't have known how to say goodbye, either. I promise…" She blew out her breath and blinked back her tears. "I promise I'll take care of Daddy for as long as I can." She cast one last glance toward the sky before she left. "Love you," she murmured, and smoothed her dress out again as she walked out of the grassy field peppered with headstones.

She stopped short only a moment later, arriving at the sidewalk to see that Lucas was still there, sitting in his car. She walked up toward him, frowning in confusion. "Hey."

He turned toward her and smiled. "Hey."

"Are you…meeting someone?"

"I was waiting for you."

"Why?" she inquired, and it was only then that she realized that her gravelly voice made it painfully obvious that she'd just been crying.

Lucas shrugged as if it didn't really matter, as if it were a perfectly natural thing to do. "If you needed a drive here, I figured you'd need a drive home."

"It's a small town. I could have walked." She was testing him, the same way he'd tested her earlier when he asked her why she'd come home.

"Are you getting in the car, or are you not?" he asked, shooting her a glare.

Smiling to herself, Peyton held up both hands in surrender before opening the door and getting in. She laughed at the wounded expression on his face, her wide smile breaking through the stiffness in her cheeks, left from there from her tears. "I'm sorry. It was sweet of you to wait. Thanks."

"You're welcome," he said evenly, but she could tell that he was gloating over forcing her into apologizing. He was still easy for her to read.

"So…you're taking the office, right? You're starting a label?"

She scowled. "What makes you think I made that decision in the past fifteen minutes?"

"Because."

"Because _why_?" she practically growled.

"Because I thought she'd take my side." He glanced toward her and winked, but his eyes were solemn and his smile was gentle despite its cheekiness. "Your mom always liked me."

She couldn't help but smile back; he had an unfailing way of pulling her in, and in deep, at that. She locked her fingers together in her lap, staring at the houses on the street as he pulled up in front of Brooke's – Brooke's _and_ her own – house. "Yeah," she murmured. "She would've loved you."

They were silent for a moment, the past descending fully upon them now that they'd come to a full stop and had time to think about it.

"Peyton…" he began uncertainly, but she wouldn't let him get any further. She'd cried enough for one day.

"Thanks for the drive, Luke. And the office. Really. It means a lot." She plastered on a smile as she got out of the car and turned to walk into the house.

"Hey…Peyton!"

Sighing, she turned back and regarded him wearily. The last thing she wanted at that particular moment was to be forced to confront all the feelings she still had for him. "Yeah?"

"It doesn't matter. What you've done, or what you haven't done…that's not what matters, it's not important." His blue eyes were packed with honesty as he said, "_You_ matter."

xxx

"P. Sawyer!" Brooke hopped up from the couch, where she and Julian had been watching a movie, the moment Peyton walked through the door. "You were gone for so long." She stopped short a couple feet away from her friends, arms akimbo, and smirked. "Ah."

"What do you mean, 'ah'?" Peyton demanded playfully as she slipped her feet out of her shoes.

Brooke grinned mischievously. "You saw Luke."

She rolled her eyes. "Maybe."

"Shut up, you so did." She looked over at her shoulder at Julian. "She did. It's obvious, right?"

"Yep," he agreed readily, flashing them a smile before he returned his attention to the television.

"So!?" Brooke was practically bouncing up and down with excitement. "What did you two talk about?" She wiggled her eyebrows and her voice dropped down; "Or was there any talking at all?"

"Stop." Peyton perched on one of the stools in the kitchen. "We talked about…well, actually, he had an idea."

"What kind of idea?" she asked eagerly.

"Well, I went to talk to Haley earlier – which reminds me, Jamie! Wow, he's grown up."

"He's the sweetest," Brooke agreed earnestly, her dimples appearing as she smiled affectionately. "Now stop changing the subject and give me the dirt!"

"Okay," Peyton laughed. "I told Haley that I want to help her make her next record."

"Aw, P. Sawyer. Great idea!"

"Yeah?"

"Totally. Now how does this relate to Lucas?"

"Well, we were talking about it…and he said I should do it on my own. Like, start my own label. And then he dragged me across town to look at what used to be Karen's office space above Tric…he said I could have it if I decided to go for it."

Brooke beamed. "You're going to do it, right?" She shook her head. "What am I saying? You _are_ doing it. I won't let you not."

"Brooke…"

"Peyton, come on! This is such a good idea, you can do everything you didn't get to do in L.A.! And you're _guaranteed_ to have an awesome first record. And…_Luke_ wants to _help you_."

Peyton shook her head in amazement. "How you manage to make that sound sexual is beyond me…" she muttered.

The brunette waved her words away. "It's a gift. The important thing here is that you're starting your own label!"

"There's just one huge problem."

"What?" Brooke challenged her.

"I don't exactly have any money. At all."

Brooke rolled her eyes, reaching out and grasping both of Peyton's hands in her own. "I'll give you a blank check. Whatever you need."

"B. Davis…"

"I know you want to, P., I can see it in your eyes! And _you_ know you want to, so what the hell is holding you back? I'll help you, Haley will be great, Luke wants you to do it. What else do you need?"

Peyton sighed, meeting her best friend's eyes hesitantly. "I guess nothing."

"That's right: _nothing_. So do it! Make Haley's fantastic record, hurry up and get that boy to fall back in love with you so I can be maid of honour, and make me godmother of your broody blonde babies." She squeezed Peyton's hands before she released them.

She laughed lightly. "I appreciate that, but Brooke…I know. It's okay. You don't have to protect me or anything."

Brooke frowned. "What are you talking about?"

"Lucas' girlfriend," she clarified, keeping her tone gentle and even so Brooke would know that she wasn't mad. "I saw her. I kind of wish you'd told me…but it's fine." She shrugged and smiled shakily. "Though it _is_ sweet of you to try to protect me."

Brooke's frown only deepened. "Peyton, honey, I don't –"

"It's _okay_. Really," she promised, winking at Brooke as she got up. "I'm tired, I think I'm just going to head to bed early." She waved at Julian and grinned. "You kids have fun."

"Peyton…" Brooke trailed off as she watched her go, trying to figure out what was going on. She turned to her boyfriend, completely baffled. "Did you understand any of that?"

He just lifted his eyebrows and she sighed, glancing back at Peyton's closed door. "Yeah. Me neither."

xxx

After Julian had left for the night, Brooke poked her head into Peyton's room. The blonde was curled up in bed, earbuds from her ipod sitting loosely in her ears. Brooke gently tugged the earphones free and set the ipod on Peyton's bedside table. She perched on the edge of the bed and touched her friend's arm lightly.

"Are you really okay?" she whispered.

Peyton's eyelids fluttered open and she smiled sleepily. "Really, I am. I didn't come back here looking for anything from him. I just…I want him to be happy. I want him to be with whomever it is that makes him happy."

"Okay," Brooke said softly, using the back of her index finger to gently wipe the tears off Peyton's cheek. From the surprised, stricken look in her friend's green orbs, she hadn't even known she'd been crying.

xxx

"Lucas Eugene Scott!" a raspy voice boomed.

He sat up in bed, eyes wide, only to see a fuming brunette standing at the foot of his bed, her hands planted on her hips as she looked at him menacingly. He took a deep breath as his heart slowed to its natural rhythm. "Jesus, Brooke!"

"Are you _stupid_?" she demanded, grabbing a book and slapping his arm with it.

"Ow! God! No, I'm _bruised_," he replied, examining the red mark on his arm. "Dammit, Brooke, what the hell are you doing?"

"What the hell am _I _doing?" she demanded, her eyes flashing dangerously. "I think you should be asking yourself that question."

He squinted at the clock. "It's one o'clock in the morning!"

"Get over it," she snapped. "_Lucas_. What the hell do you think you're doing, lying to Peyton like that?"

"What?" he demanded, glaring at her.

"Telling her you have a girlfriend? Unless you've been hiding things from me – which is _very_ hard to do, by the way – you _don't_ have a girlfriend. So why the hell would you lead her to believe that you _do_? Huh?"

"I…I don't know," he admitted, hanging his head. "She saw Lindsey leave my house and she jumped to conclusions…and I didn't correct her."

"Lucas, you jackass," Brooke sighed. "You broke her heart!"

"Please," he muttered sarcastically.

"Don't you dare. Luke, she is in _love_ with you."

"Not after this long!"

Brooke's eyebrows flew up as she crossed her arms. "Look who's talking."

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

"You _know_ what it means."

Lucas rubbed his eyes wearily and shook his head. "Are we seriously having this conversation?"

Brooke blew out her breath as her anger wilted and she took at seat at the foot of his bed. "I don't understand you, Lucas; why are you fighting this so bad? I know that you still love her."

"You know what _I_ don't understand? Why everyone is so dead set on fucking meddling in my relationships."

She cracked a grin. "So you admit that you and Peyton have a relationship."

"Brooke," he groaned, asking her to be serious.

"Okay, okay. We meddle because we love you both, and this is stupid. Peyton is trying to stand back and let you love someone else _because_ she loves you, and _because_ she wants you to be happy. But there isn't anyone else! So you're both putting yourselves through this hell for no reason. Luke, you have loved her for so long, and I don't believe for a second that you've stopped loving her in these past two years."

He frowned at her like a child caught in a lie, stubbornly refusing to admit that she was right.

"Who do you think you're kidding?" she asked him softly, unable to keep from smiling fondly. "You're idiots, the both of you. I mean, Luke, editor chick? Of all people? She's sweet, but _so_ not your type." She patted his leg under the blanket and stood up to go. "Just be honest with yourself, okay?"

Lucas smiled slightly as he dared her, "And what exactly is my type?"

Brooke kinked her eyebrows playfully and shrugged as if the answer was entirely obvious: "Peyton Sawyer."


	5. Incapability and Sensibility

**A/N: **Your enthusiasm for this story is wonderfully both overwhelming and inspiring. A million thanks and keep that feedback coming!

**Chapter Four**

_Those who are sensible about love are incapable of it._

-- Douglas Yates

Two mornings later, Peyton woke up at six o'clock to the sound of tapping on her window. She sat up and blinked as she frowned, running her fingers through her messy hair. She flung off her blankets and padded over to the window, squinting through her tired eyes. She figured it was birds or something, so she ended up jumping nearly a foot of the ground when she saw a man standing on the other side of the glass.

Yanking up her window, she reached through the space and smacked his arm. "What the hell are you doing scaring me like that?!" she demanded. "Do you even know what time it is?"

Chagrined, Lucas shifted his weight from foot to foot and looked at her apologetically. "I didn't mean to scare you."

"The best intentions…" she trailed off, knowing that he was fully capable of filling in the rest of the cliché for himself.

"Right. Sorry. I just…I had something to tell you."

His eyes kept flitting downward, and it was only then that Peyton remembered what she was wearing – or, more accurately, what she was _not_ wearing. Her t-shirt was old and worn-in but a little bit small: it revealed a couple inches of the skin of her stomach, and she was sure that he was able to tell that she wasn't wearing a bra. Her shorts were particularly short, baring her legs and putting all the bruises that she wished she'd noticed sooner on display. With her bruises and her bedhead and her bleary eyes, she wasn't feeling particularly attractive, but her ex-boyfriend was undoubtedly checking her out.

She crossed her arms over her chest and scowled sleepily at him. "You had something to tell me at _six_ o'clock in the morning? And it required coming to my window instead of using the front door like a normal person? Well. Sounds important. I can't wait to hear it," she added sarcastically.

Lucas stared at her for a moment before he blurted, "I don't have a girlfriend."

Her eyebrows flew up and her mouth fell open. "Excuse me?"

"The other day when you came over you saw Lindsey leave and you just assumed she was my girlfriend and I didn't correct you and I let you believe it and it was a lie and you've just been walking around with that lie for the past couple days and I mean I'm sure it doesn't matter to you at all whether I have a girlfriend or not but I shouldn't have lied to you and I hate that I lied to you and I guess I…" He quit his rambling to breathe, exhaling slowly. "I just wanted to come over here and tell you that I lied. And that I'm sorry. That's all." He glanced at the ground. "Sorry I woke you up." And with that, he turned and walked away.

Struck speechless, Peyton backed up until she hit the side of her bed and reflexively sat down. "What just happened?" she asked her empty room, trying to ignore the feeling of possibility she felt building up, stemming from her heart and rising to her lips, which slowly curled into a smile that she tried to suppress.

xxx

"Hey, P. Sawyer," Brooke greeted when she walked into the living room, home from a night spent at Julian's. She dropped her bag – Brooke Davis never went anywhere without a supply of clothes that could last at least four days and cover a myriad of important occasions – and flopped down on the opposite end of the couch. "Oh, no. _Please_ tell me you're not sitting here on the couch wrapped up in a blanket, doing nothing but brooding over life. That's just depressing, P."

She smiled softly. "Lucas doesn't have a girlfriend."

Brooke's eyes lit up with understanding as she sighed. "No," she agreed, "he doesn't."

"You didn't tell me that."

"No, honey, I didn't. _He_ needed to. You're not mad at me, are you?" She frowned apologetically. "It was the way things had to be…"

"No, of course I'm not mad." She smiled reassuringly. "You're right, that's how it should have been."

"Wait, when did you find out? Peyton, oh my God, did you see him last night?" she demanded excitedly.

"No, he was outside my window at six o'clock this morning. I guess the guilt was getting to him or something," she shrugged, rolling her eyes.

"Whoa, _wait_." Brooke's eyes were sparkling. "He told you this morning? Like, he woke you up, and then you went over to the window, and he was there, and then you talked?"

"Yeah…" Peyton agreed, giving her friend a confused look.

Brooke snickered.

"_What_? What is it?"

"Oh, _nothing_," Brooke said, laughing through her words. "It's just…" She grabbed the edge of the blanket, pulling it off Peyton's body, and continued giggling: "You definitely gave him a glance of what he's been missing, didn't you?"

xxx

"Hey, Blondie!" Haley exclaimed happily when she opened the door to find Peyton there. She reached out to give her friend an impulsive hug.

"Hey," Nathan dragged out the word as he appeared behind his wife, grinning. "Look what the cat dragged in!" He reached out to ruffle her hair; Peyton ducked his hand.

"You two are like children," Haley said fondly, rolling her eyes out them as she opened the door further. "C'mon in," she told Peyton. "Do you want something to eat? I made waffles."

"From scratch," Nathan added. "My girl's that good."

Peyton laughed as she took a seat at one of the stools by the kitchen counter. "That sounds great."

"So what's up?" Haley asked as she set a plate in front of Peyton.

"Nothing. I just came by to say hi, and maybe talk a little bit about Haley James Scott's next _amazing _record."

Haley gave her a knowing look as she smiled, intuitive as always. "But there's something else, right? Something's bothering you, I can tell."

"Yeah, it's kind of obvious, Sawyer," Nathan contributed.

She sighed, tying with her napkin, folding it repeatedly. "Lucas told me he had a girlfriend." She scrutinized Haley's expression and sighed. "But you know that already, don't you?"

"Yeah," she admitted, handing Peyton the maple syrup. "He called me yesterday. And judging by the way you just phrased that, you know that it was a lie."

"He was knocking on my window at six o'clock this morning. He told me he lied and that he was sorry, and then he left."

Nathan smirked, shaking his head. "He's always lost his mind a little when it comes to you."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

He downed an entire glass of orange juice in one gulp. "Do you want it to mean anything?" he challenged her, and she broke eye contact immediately, her cheeks flaming when she realized that her response was as much confirmation as saying _yes_ would have been.

She glanced back up at Haley. "Why would he lie to me like that? Does he…does he know that I…"

Haley smiled sympathetically, placing her hand soothingly over Peyton's as she shrugged. "Sorry, honey, that boy's head has always been a mystery to me. But I think…I think that by lying to you…he wanted to hurt you…so that you'd be hurting the way he's been hurting every single day since he lost you."

Peyton's eyes widened at that revelation. "But he…he was so angry about it. We broke up because of the distance, because he couldn't understand why I needed to stay in L.A. It was just too hard, always arguing about who visited who when and he was always asking me when I'd come home…"

"I know that he came off a little aggressively, but he really missed you, Peyton. And I think that he _still_ misses you."

Nathan butted in again, asking, "Do you want him to have missed you?"

"I…I don't know," she whispered.

He nudged her elbow with his own and gave her a scolding look. "Yeah, you do so know," he told her, matter-of-factly but gently.

"Okay, so maybe I do," she admitted. "_Maybe_ I do want him to have missed me…maybe I still have feelings for him, yeah."

"And maybe he still has feelings for you," Haley told her mutedly, giving Peyton more hope than she dared to have.

"Even if…if we feel the same way…I don't know if that's what I want. I'm scared of getting hurt again and I don't know if…if I want to do that to him."

Nathan frowned. "Do what to him?"

She sighed and shook her head, offering him a smile. "Nothing. I just don't know."

"You'll figure it out," Haley told her comfortingly. "You and Lucas always do, even if it takes you a _hell_ of a long time."

Peyton smiled sadly. "Well, we can't all get married at sixteen, can we?"

"Nah, we're not all that lucky." Nathan shot his wife a private smile before he grinned at Peyton again. "I've got to take off. I'll be home around five, baby; don't be a stranger, okay, Peyt?"

"I won't," she promised, sighing as she drizzled syrup over her waffles. "He, uh…he gave me an office space, too. He thinks I should open my own label." She set the bottle of syrup down and crossed her arms. "But you knew _that_ already, too, didn't you?"

Haley scrunched up her face, smiling apologetically. "Yep."

"Yeah…"

"Are you gonna do it?" she asked softly.

Peyton sighed, tapping her fingertips against the countertop. "I don't know. I mean, I have an office space courtesy of Luke, and Brooke is pretty much forcing the money on me…" She scrutinized Haley's face. "And I have a sinking feeling that you're not going to make this record unless I do this on my own, huh?"

"You got it," Haley sang out.

"Well." Peyton gulped down some orange juice. "I guess I don't really have an option then."

Haley's eyes were dancing with wisdom. "You're excited about it. Aren't you? Admit it."

Peyton nodded, unable to keep from smiling a bit. "I'm excited about it."

xxx

She spent ten minutes standing outside Lucas Scott's door, deliberating over what to do. She didn't know if it would be completely presumptuous and awkward for her to just walk right in, but she couldn't even remember the last time she'd knocked on his door. Sighing, she counted to three in her head and grasped the doorknob, turning it before she could second-guess herself.

She slipped inside his house hesitantly; it felt like unfamiliar territory. "Hello?" she called out as she walked cautiously into the hall, struck by how nervous and shaky her voice sounded.

Lucas stepped out of the kitchen and into the hall. "Uh…hi." He was startled, but not entirely displeased, to see her.

Peyton pointed with her thumb over her shoulder. "It was open. I'm sorry; is it weird that I just walked in? I could go back and knock it you want."

He smirked sweetly at her, the way he used to when she was being adorable without really knowing it. "No, it's fine. Of course it's fine. I mean, I knocked on your window at dawn, so…tit for tat." He glanced back toward the kitchen. "Do you want some tea?"

Smiling softly, she nodded as she walked down the rest of the hallway to join him in the kitchen. "That sounds good. Thanks."

Peyton took a seat at his kitchen table as he grabbed the kettle and poured the steaming liquid into two pretty mugs that had obviously been purchased by his mother at some point in time. He added milk and sugar – two spoonfuls, the way she'd always liked it – to both mugs and set one in front of her. "It's hot."

"I never would have guessed," she teased as she eyed him. He looked incredibly uncomfortable as he stood by the counter. She nudged the other chair at the table out with her foot. "Will you come sit with me?" she asked him gently, a laugh in the back of her throat. She waited until he took a seat to ask the question, figuring that there was no point in letting his lie be the elephant in the room. "So…if she's not your girlfriend, then who's the girl?"

He glanced downward, ashamed of his lie. "She's my editor. For my book."

Her eyes lit up. "Lucas! Your book's getting published?!"

"Yeah. We've been working on it for a couple months. It's not…a big deal, or anything."

"Not a big deal!? Luke, it's huge. I'm _so_ proud of you," she gushed, unable to help herself.

His cheeks started to heat up. "Thanks. It never…it never would've happened without you. You're the one who sent my book out after graduation."

She smiled at the memory. "It wasn't me. It was all you, your mind and your talent and your writing. I just bought some stamps."

Lucas chuckled, rolling his eyes. "It was more than that and you know it. You…you believed in me."

Her breath caught in her throat but she managed to keep smiling. "You did the same for me. With _Thud_. And you're doing the same for me right now, with my label." She shook her head and laughed. "Wow, that seems weird to say."

Happy for her, Lucas beamed. "A dream come true, right?"

She held his gaze for a long moment, swallowing hard. "Yeah," she whispered. "A dream come true." She inhaled deeply. "Luke…why did you lie to me?"

He tore his gaze from hers. "I didn't…lie, exactly; I just sort of…didn't correct you."

"Okay, then, well why didn't you correct me?"

Blowing out his breath in exasperation, he replied, "I don't know, Peyt. I just did, okay?"

She shook her head, pushing her mug of tea away. "It's not okay. Because you _do_ know why, and I want you to be honest with me."

His lips were set in a line, his jaw clenched, gripping his mug tightly. "I…" He sighed before he finally mumbled, "I guess I wanted you to be jealous."

Her heart flipped repeatedly in her chest. "And why…would I be jealous?"

Lucas' foot touched hers under the table and there was something surprisingly intimate about his big toe pressing against hers. She felt the shockwaves of that movement radiate all the way up her body, pushing at every part of her to be touching every part of him. He met her eyes, blue boring into green, and admitted clearly, "Because I would've been."

She took a shaky breath and rested her cheek in one of her hands, tilting her head slightly to the side. With her other hand, she reached across the table and gently pried his fingers off his mug, slipping her hand into his, her fingers encircling his wrist and his encircling hers. His thumb skimmed over the underside of her wrist, the sensitive skin just over her pulse point. Something inside of her, probably the most sensible part of her brain, was screaming at her to go and save them both from falling in too deep when there was no future in sight for them, but something else was chanting _stay stay stay stay stay_, and she figured it was probably her heart, because it won out in the end, as it always did with Luke.

Her eyelashes fluttered over her green eyes and she had to bite back a smile, her teeth latching into her lower lip for a second as her grip on his hand tightened.

"What?" he asked, his voice low.

She giggled soundlessly, gloating playfully, "Lucas Scott…you still have a thing for me."

Sitting back in his chair, he tried to pull his hand away, but she wouldn't let him. "Peyton…" he groaned, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand as he looked away from her, sighing heavily.

"You _do_," she insisted, "you checked me out this morning."

"I did _not_!" he spluttered indignantly. At her arched eyebrow, he admitted defeat: "Okay, so maybe I did. So _what_ if I did? So what if I do still…have a _thing_…for you…" he trailed off nervously.

Peyton smiled softly. "So…maybe I do too."

He cracked a grin. "That's kind of narcissistic, don'tcha think?"

"Jerk," she berated him instantly, tugging her hand away from his. "I meant that…I mean that I've missed you," she confessed.

Lucas nodded slowly. "I've missed you, too."

Leaning toward him as if they were sharing a secret, she asked, "So what're we going to do about that?"

"Well…" he drawled out the word as he leaned across the table as well. "I was thinking that we could…try again."

Peyton gnawed her lower lip nervously. "I don't know if…" She sighed. "I want to try again, too, but I think that we should try being _friends_."

He shook his head stubbornly as he frowned. "I've missed you for two whole years, Peyton, everyday, and it feels like a lot of wasted time. And that's got to mean something, doesn't it? I want us to be friends, and I want us to be _more_."

"Is that really the best idea?" she asked quietly, regarding him with sad eyes.

"Peyt…I still have feelings for you. I never stopped having feelings from you. I think that…that I still lo –"

"Luke." She cut him off and sighed at the wounded expression he wore. "That's…that's…I don't know what the word for that is, but it makes me feel _really_ damn good." He smiled and she continued, "But I don't want to dive back into anything, okay? No matter how much I've missed you or how much I still feel for you. When…I mean, _if_ it ends again…it's just going to hurt you – _us_ – even more, and I don't want that. I want things to move…slowly."

"I've waited for you for two years. I don't know how much longer I can wait."

"I'm _here_," she promised him, "you don't have to wait. You just have to…let things build up again. Okay?"

He squinted at her and asked teasingly, "Can I kiss you now?"

"_Luke_. I said slow!"

"Hey, considering what I've wanted to do to you since I saw you at six o'clock this morning, kissing would right now would be moving at a _glacial_ pace."

She glanced down, blushing. "You still like my chicken-y legs, huh?" she muttered.

Lucas shrugged, smiling fondly at her. "Well, up close, they're still pretty damn awesome." He laughed as her cheeks turned an even deeper shade of red. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

Peyton nodded.

"How'd you get all those bruises?"

She froze, desperately wracking her mind for a reason. "I, um…rugby!" she finally blurted impulsively, resisting the urge to wince afterward. Rugby, of all sports…

Amusedly, he frowned and asked skeptically, "_Rugby_?"

"Yup," she said firmly.

"You play…_you_ play _rugby_?"

"_Yes_. I do. I love it."

"You don't _sound_ like you love it."

"Well, I do," Peyton insisted tersely.

"Peyt…" He chuckled, shaking his head, still not convinced. "No, you don't. You can't possibly. _Tell_ me," he dared her, "how exactly is rugby played?"

"Luke. Stop it," she said, pushing her chair away from the table. "I play rugby. Why won't you just believe that?"

He looked baffled by her reaction. "Because you _don't_. I know you, and I know you're not a rugby girl. Peyton Sawyer, playing an organized tackle sport?"

The way he said it made her realize what a stupid lie it was, but she was already trapped in it and she wasn't about to tell him the truth. "Well, I _do_," she said firmly, walking toward the kitchen door, anxious to get out of there before he broke down her defenses and had her admitting to the reality of things.

"Wait…where…_where_ are you going?"

"I'm leaving. I'm right, you just proved it. We need to start from the beginning, as friends, and not anything more, not right away." A touch of bitterness seeped into her words as she sadly told him, "You don't know everything about me anymore, Luke."

Just before she closed to door, she heard him speak, though she wished she hadn't.

He said; "But I want to."


	6. Precious Things Discovered Late

**A/N:** Hey, you wonderful readers and reviewers! Thanks for reading and letting me know what you're thinking. I know that some of you were a bit surprised as to how quickly LP confessed that they've still got feelings for each other – unusual in one of my stories, I know – but you've got to remember that Peyton's working within a time frame.

Just one note before you read – a reviewer sent me a PM informing me that there's a video on YouTube called "The Last Time" which is a fake movie trailer starring the OTH characters which actually shares a lot of similarities with this fic. I've watched it, and it's really well done and has turned out to be pretty inspiring. The video-maker has very kindly agreed to let me direct y'all to it, sort of as the trailer for this story, if you will. I'll post a link in my profile; you should definitely check it out!

And one other thing – this chapter is not quite as long as my usual updates and is primarily centered around LP. It may seem a bit filler-ish but I thought it was necessary. Keep all your awesome feedback coming, it really does keep me writing, and more writing means more updates! Your enthusiasm for this story has been great and I hope I can keep living up to your expectations.

Also: I had to go through the entirety of Tennyson's Poems (400 pages, people) today to find this one quotation from this one poem because I knew it was the one I wanted. I just want you to know that thought goes into each chapter's epigraph; I don't just fling them on there to look pretty, though they're also not meant to divulge plot secrets are anything.

Oh, and _one_ more small thing – HAPPY WEDDING DAY! *fangirl squealing*

**Chapter Five**

_All precious things, discover'd late,_

_To those that seek them issue forth;_

_For love in sequel works with fate,_

_And draws the veil from hidden worth._

-- from "The Arrival" in Alfred Tennyson's The Day-Dream

Peyton took a couple steps back, planting her hands on her hips as she looked over her masterpiece, also known as the newly painted walls of her new office. She smiled to herself. "Looks pretty damn good, doesn't it?" she mused.

He reached out, looping an arm around her shoulders and pulling her close to her side. "Yeah, it really does."

She grinned up at him; her whole body suddenly felt warmer. "Thanks for…everything, Luke. And for helping me today."

Nodding, he replied, "Well, if I didn't help you, Brooke would have to…and it just wouldn't be fair to make her get paint under her fingernails. I mean, really, I'd never be able to forgive myself."

"Shut up," she laughed, elbowing him lightly before she slipped an arm around his waist, leaning into his body as she rested her head against his shoulder. "It feels…real, now," she whispered as she looked at her office space, the walls her favourite shade of red.

"Good," he replied softly, tightening his grip on her a little bit. "It should feel real. It is." He was talking about more than just her label, and they both knew it. He ran his fingers tenderly through her crimson-splattered hair. "You're a mess," he said fondly.

"Well, whose fault is that? I seem to remember _your _paintbrush making contact with _my_ cheek."

"Yeah, but you went for my hair."

"So what?" she cried indignantly, pulling away from him a bit.

"So, once you get paint in my hair, it's _war_," he told her matter-of-factly. "_This_," he added, pointing proudly to his messed-up blonde hair, "takes _work_."

"Uh-huh," she giggled, reaching up to ruffle his hair, which was almost entirely red. "Jeez, we need to shower."

"Okay," he agreed readily, "your place or mine?"

She glared at him, unimpressed and not amused, until he finally lifted his hands in surrender and took a couple steps away. "Okay, I'm sorry. Can I at least take you out for ice cream? That's a nice friendly, platonic activity, right?"

Peyton awarded him a small smile and arched her eyebrows. "Will you let me pay for my own?"

"Of course," he said immediately.

She shook her head, unable to keep an affectionate grin from lighting up her face. "Liar."

Lucas smirked as he walked toward the staircase that would lead him down into Tric. "I'll pick you up in an hour?"

Nodding, she agreed, "Sounds good."

He paused. "Are you not leaving right now?"

Peyton shook her head, glancing at the walls again before she let her gaze drift to all the boxes of things she needed to unpack. "I think I might stay here and revel in my own eventual success for a few," she joked.

Lucas gave her that grin with the ability to make her heart skip a beat just before he disappeared down the stairs. "You deserve it."

xxx

When he arrived at Brooke and Peyton's place a little over an hour later, the girl who opened the door looked much different than the one he'd left sixty minutes ago – and not in a good way. She wasn't covered in paint anymore, but she looked tired and haggard, like she'd gone through a severe bout of the flu somewhere in between painting at her studio and arriving home. There was a blanket wrapped securely around her shoulders, and she was wearing flannel pyjama pants.

"Hi," she said hoarsely.

"Hey," Lucas replied gently, reaching out toward her, running one of his hands lightly down her arm. "Are you okay?"

Peyton shrugged feebly. "I can't…get ice cream right now. I'm sorry."

"It's okay," he said quickly, shaking his head dismissively. "Are you _okay_?" he repeated.

"I'm just…I don't feel that good right now." She sounded breathless and her voice was smaller than it normally was, vulnerable and scared.

He touched her cheek tenderly and wasn't surprised to discover that her skin was warm. "You're hot," he blurted, and then internally reprimanded himself for stating the obvious.

A shadow of her usual smirk tugged at her lips. "Thanks," she said dryly.

Lucas chuckled. "I'm serious. You have a fever. Did you take medication?"

Something changed in her eyes as she nodded. "Yeah, I did."

He scrutinized her expression worriedly. "Do you promise?"

"Luke," she sighed, pulling the blanket tighter around her body as she shivered. "I promise, I did."

"Okay, well…" he took a step towards her, into the house, but the alarm in her eyes stopped in short. "What?"

"What are you doing?" Peyton demanded, her voice cracking.

"I'm…coming in. Peyt, are you sure you're alright?"

"Why?"

"Why what?"

She sighed wearily. "Why are you coming in?"

It was obvious to him and he couldn't understand why it wasn't obvious to her. "I'll stay with you."

"No, Luke, you don't have to…"

"I want to," he cut her off.

"Lucas…" she whispered, trailing off uncertainly.

He stepped inside, well aware that she didn't have the energy to fight with him about this. He closed the door behind himself and regarded her solemnly. "I can't leave you here all alone when you're sick."

Her eyes were watery – he wasn't sure if her sinuses were acting up or if she was on the verge of crying, but all the same, the sight of tears in her eyes called at his most instinctual reaction to protect her.

She swallowed hard and blinked before she spoke. "I'm a big girl. I can take care of myself. You should go home. I'll call you when I'm feeling better." She inhaled deeply, like she'd used up all her air. "That's how it should be."

Lucas shook his head, smiling to himself. Her stubborn streak would never change. "Peyton, this doesn't have to _mean_ anything, okay?" When she frowned at him, he added, "Hey, I promise not to act like a boyfriend at _all_. I won't even act like a _good_ friend; I'll act like a sucky friend."

"Luke," she pouted, her lower lip sticking out slightly.

"You'll hardly know I'm here," he insisted. "I won't do anything nice for you at all. I won't get you extra blankets," he said, just as he noticed that she could probably use another, "and I won't go buy you juice – I won't even ask you how you're feeling." He took a couple steps past her and flopped onto the couch, propping his feet up on the coffee table and grabbing the nearest magazine. "I won't hover around you or by your side or talk to you at all. I will just sit out here, on the couch, in case you happen to need anything. A friend can do _that_, right?"

She squinted at him, sizing him up. Then she smiled shakily, nodding slowly. "Yeah, I guess. You won't move?"

"I won't," he vowed.

"Okay," she murmured, shuffling her feet on the floor as she turned around to head into her room.

"Okay," he agreed as he settled in, getting comfortable on the couch, "so…I'll be here."

She laughed as she turned to go; weak and watery, but definitely a laugh, and the sound of it made him smile as he looked over at her.

She was eyeing the magazine he held. "Have fun finding out all the best sex secrets."

His eyes flew down to land on the cover of the magazine. _Cosmo_. He grimaced embarrassedly but tried to play it off: "Uh, well, thank you. That's exactly what I intend to do."

"Uh-huh."

Lucas gave her his softest smile, mischief sparkling in his blue eyes as he said firmly, "You hurry up and get better so I can show you what I learn."

Colour sprang to her cheeks and she mumbled something about him being a pig as she padded back to her bedroom in her sock feet. He laughed to himself as he heard her door slam, threw the magazine back on the coffee table, and reached for the television remote, making sure to keep the volume low on ESPN so that he could hear her in case she called for him.

xxx

"Uh…hi."

Lucas looked up and smiled at her. "Hey."

Brooke leaned against the back of the couch and planted a hand on her hip. "You're on my couch," she stated.

"Did you need it for something?" he teased, setting_ For Whom the Bell Tolls_, which he'd found in one of Peyton's moving boxes, aside.

She rolled her brown eyes. "I was just wondering…are you sitting here on my couch reading your painfully artsy, boring book post-coital? Or is it more of a pre-date thing?" She blinked at him innocently as she awaited his reply.

"This book is not _boring_," he said firmly in reply.

Brooke smirked knowingly, circling the couch so that she could flop down at his side. "I see."

"You do?" he asked her skeptically.

She smiled softly at him. "You and Peyton are still doing this whole _friends_ thing."

"We're not 'doing a friends thing'. We are friends."

"Right, sure. But really, Luke, how long until you're more?"

He shrugged. "I'm not sure. Maybe soon. Maybe never. That's her decision."

"Are you're okay with that?" she asked laughingly.

Lucas shrugged again. "I want her to be happy. So me and her…we'll be…whatever makes her happy."

"Funny," Brooke remarked, "she said pretty much the exact same thing to me about you when she came back."

"Yeah?" he asked, undisguised hope in his eyes.

"Yeah," she assured him softly, reaching over to pat his knee. "So…where is P. Sawyer?"

"She's not feeling good; she's in bed."

"She's sick? With what?" Brooke got to her feet. "Do you think she's sleeping?"

"Uh…yes, she's sick; the flu, I think; probably."

"And you are here on the couch reading your boring book _because_…?"

"Just in case she needed anything," he said with a shrug that was meant to be casual and nonchalant but was really everything but. "I thought someone should be here."

"Of course you did," she murmured, throwing him a smile that told him exactly how thoroughly she saw through him before she headed into her best friend's room.

xxx

Peyton was huddled under her blankets, curled up small, idly flipping through the latest issue of _B. Davis_.

"Hey, babe," Brooke said softly as she stepped into her room. "You're awake."

"Yeah, I couldn't really sleep."

Brooke crawled onto the bed next to her and pressed the back of her hand against Peyton's forehead. "You're kinda warm. Are you sure you're not tired?"

Peyton smiled tolerantly, licking her dry lips to moisten them. "I'm fine. It's no big deal; just a cold."

"Did you take medicine?"

"B. Davis. I can take of myself; honestly, I _can_."

"Okay," Brooke agreed dubiously, leaning back against the pillows as she tucked Peyton's damp, messy curls out of her face. "Well, Julian and I were going to go to a movie tonight and I was planning on probably staying over at his place, but if you're sick…"

"No. No, B., _go_. I'll be fine. I promise."

"Okay, _normally_," Brooke said pointedly, "I'd ignore this whole bravado thing you tend to do when you get sick and stay in with you and rent some chick flicks. But…"

"But?" Peyton asked, intrigued.

Brooke scrunched up her face, giddy with secrets. She leaned close to Peyton and whispered, "P. Sawyer, _Luke_ is on our _couch_."

Peyton laughed at her friend. "I know he is. Tell him to go home, I'll be fine."

The brunette beamed. "See, the thing is, the only reason I'm leaving tonight is because I know for a fact…that _he_ won't."

"Brooke…" Peyton groaned, not wanting to delve into the issues of her love life while her head was pounding like it was.

She kissed the blonde's forehead before she hopped off the bed, winking playfully. "I just wanted to make sure that you knew it, too."

xxx

Late at night, when the whole house was dark and quiet, Peyton stirred, aware of someone's presence in her bedroom. She shifted slightly and whoever it was whispered, "_Shh, _sleep." Her eyes stayed shut as she felt another blanket being draped over her body and tucked around her to cover her thoroughly and keep her warm. She opened her green orbs a sliver to see a tall glass of orange juice being set on her bedside table next to some cold and flu medication. She felt lips press against her temple and that same gentle voice whispered, "How are you feeling?" against her cheek.

"M'okay," she managed to respond groggily.

"Tell me if you need something. Okay? I'll be here."

She wrestled one hand free of all her blankets and reached out, slipping her hand into his larger, familiar one. "Luke," she murmured drowsily, clinging to him, tugging gently on his fingers. "Stay."

Without a second thought, without even pausing to think about his own health and whether or not she was contagious, he slipped into bed with her, wrapping his arms around her like another blanket. He buried his face into her hair like he always had, against her neck, and whispered words she understood the feeling behind but not the exact meaning of into her ear until she fell back into a dreamless sleep.


	7. Remember Our Dying

**A/N:** You guys rock. 'Nough said.

**Chapter Six**

_It seems to me that if you or I must choose between two courses of thought or action, we should remember our dying and try so to live that our death brings no pleasure on the world._

-- John Steinbeck

Peyton stretched her legs out as she slowly woke up. As she shifted, she realized that she wasn't alone in her bed, and her eyes snapped open. Lucas was lying at her side, one arm still draped lightly over her body, smiling drowsily at her.

"Hey, sleeping beauty," he greeted her, lifting his hand to brush her messy hair back and out of her face. He rested the back of his hand against her forehead. "How're you feeling?"

"Better," she murmured, torn between the instinct to cuddle with him and the thought that she should probably get up and get dressed, because they were pushing the boundaries of friendship. "What time is it?"

"Almost ten." He moved his hand from her head and said, "I think your fever broke somewhere around four – you stopped shivering and started pushing my away, you were too warm."

She squinted at him through sleepy eyes as she realized that he must have watched over her all night. "Did you get any rest at all?"

"Don't worry about it," he said dismissively. "Do you want breakfast? A shower?"

"A shower would be good," she agreed slowly as she sat up. Her limbs felt sweaty and heavy; she was in desperate need of some rejuvenation.

"It must have been a twenty-four bug," he mused, resting his fingers against her neck to double-check that she wasn't feverish any longer.

Her heart sank. There was a lot more to her brief bout of sickness than some small virus. She shivered as his fingers grazed her skin.

"Still cold?" he asked her immediately, worry seeping into his words.

Peyton's eyes widened as she looked away from him. "I, um…no. It's not…it's…"

Lucas smirked – she couldn't see it but she could _feel_ it. He tucked his fingers lightly under her chin, forcing her to meet his eyes. "You _so_ do still have a thing for me, Peyton Sawyer."

"Shut up," she mumbled, pushing the blankets off her legs and getting to her feet.

His hand grasped hers, stopping her in her tracks. "Peyt."

She looked back at him with vulnerable eyes. "What?"

"Why are we waiting?"

When he asked her outright like that all her reasoning faded away. He was looking at her like he still loved her and it made her feel buoyant and panicked all at once. She shook her head slightly, staring down at their hands, fingers perfectly entwined. "_Because_…" she said thickly, and couldn't go on.

"That's not a reason."

"It _is_," she insisted. God, the way he was looking at her. She wanted to slap him. She wanted to kiss him.

"Why?" he challenged her.

"Because, Luke…" She swallowed hard and for the briefest of moments she toyed with the idea of telling him. But then she looked into his eyes again and saw that everything she felt for him was something that he felt for her, too, and she couldn't hurt him like that. She couldn't. "Because…because I love you. I love you and I could tell you exactly when it started but I don't think I could tell you when it stopped, because I'm not sure that it ever did. And right now…right now I mean that I love you as a friend. You mean the world to me, okay?" She clamped her lips together to keep them from trembling and tried for a gentle smile. "And when you told me you had a girlfriend I thought I could just stand back and let you be happy. But you don't have a girlfriend and for once there's nothing in the way or you and me except for time…this just isn't the moment when I want to mess us up. If we have a chance to do this right and do this for real…I don't want to screw it up."

His eyes bored into hers. "I'm not gonna hurt you," he promised quietly. "I know I have, and I'm so sorry for that, but I could tell you exactly when I started loving you, too, and I could tell you that I still feel that way about you right now."

She squeezed her eyes shut. "It's not you. It's not." Opening her eyes, she wrestled her hand from his and pulled her bathrobe on over her pyjamas so that she felt less exposed. "Friends first, Luke. Thank you…for being here for me last night. It was really sweet of you. But I think…I think you should be gone by the time I get out of the shower. And I don't think we should see each other for a few days. Call me in a week, okay? If you want to."

"Peyton…"

She paused in the doorway of her room's en suite bathroom and turned to look at him. "Maybe you should think about this. About us. I don't know if I can give you what you want and you shouldn't have to…wait for me."

"Peyt." He looked bewildered and hurt and like he'd just lost something, and that expression alone reminded her of why they needed to take this slow. Or maybe…

"Maybe we shouldn't," she murmured, too wounded by her own idea to say it loudly.

And then she walked into the bathroom and locked the door before she could see his reaction or hear anything he had to say.

Two minutes later there was a light knock on the door. "Peyton," he said quietly. "Can you come out of there for a minute so that I can talk to you?"

She shook her head even though he couldn't see her. "Don't do this," she said simply. "Please."

He sighed on the other side of the door. "Do you want me to go?"

She bit her bottom lip until she tasted blood. She couldn't answer that. Instead, all she said was, "I think you _should_."

xxx

Brooke sighed as she sat in silence with her boyfriend. They were parked in front of her house on the street, both staring straight ahead. They'd been there for ten minutes and neither of them had said a word.

"Look," she said softly, "Julian, I didn't mean…"

"Oh, you didn't?" he asked sarcastically, frowning.

"_No_, I didn't," she said firmly. "It's just…it's not good timing right now. Can you please understand that?"

"I do," he admitted grudgingly.

"Peyton _just_ came home, and I'm still commuting back and forth between Tree Hill and New York all the time…"

"I understand that," he repeated, finally turning to look at her. "I really do. But I want to take the next step in our relationship, and you completely turned down the possibility. _Completely_."

"I _love_ that you want that," she told him, earnestly but exasperatedly. "But I can't move in with you right now. Peyton doesn't have money for rent, not yet, and I feel like I really need to be there for her right now, at least until she and Lucas get over themselves and remember that they love each other. And I love my house, I really do. And –" She frowned. He was grinning. "What?" she asked cautiously. "What are you smiling at?"

"You're just funny when you're making excuses for yourself. It's kinda cute."

"_Julian_," she whined, glaring at him.

"Okay. Fine, so you can't leave your place right now, and I get that. So…why don't I move in with you?"

Her eyebrows flew up. "_You _want to move in with me _and_ Peyton?" she asked skeptically.

"If it's okay with her, then…yeah."

"That's…you don't think that would be weird?" She kinked her eyebrows contemplatively.

"If you two don't want me invading your space, I guess I can understand that. But I want to be with you, Brooke Davis, all the time. Besides, don't you think it would be easier if you didn't have to pack for a six-day trip and a red carpet event every time you came over?"

She rolled her eyes and nodded slowly. "Yeah, I…I guess it would be good." She met his eyes, her brown orbs troubled. "You guys aren't going to fall in love, are you? You know, and then one day when I'm on a business trip overnight, you go into the kitchen for water and she's already there, and you say, _hey, you want some watermelon?_ and she says _why yes, I'd love some_ and then you cut it and she eats it all sexily and your fingers brush and all that sexual tension comes to the surface and you end up having sex on _my_ very expensive dining room table…" She sighed. "Why are you looking at me like that again?"

"_Watermelon_?" he asked skeptically.

"It's an aphrodisiac," she informed him, "And is that _seriously_ all you took from that?"

"No. What I took from that is that you're a little afraid of moving further because of how good things are with us right now and you're just waiting for something to go wrong. And I know that you love Peyton like a sister and you're worried about her right now, but one day she's going to move on with that guy she's in love with, and so I think _you_ should move on with the guy who loves _you_, and who is most definitely not going to fall in love with your best friend."

She looked at him for a long moment before allowing herself to smile. "I'd have to talk to her about it…"

"Hey, you can't hold the poor girl accountable if she falls in love with me," he teased, his eyes bright.

Brooke smacked his arm lightly. "About you _moving in_." She leaned across the gearshift to kiss him. "I'll call you later," she said softly, grabbing her bag from the back and heading inside, well aware that he was watching her walk away.

She dropped her bag once she walked through the door and slipped her feet out of her shoes. "Hey, P. Sawy –" She stopped short when she saw her best friend, rushing over to sit with he. "_Hey_. Honey. What's wrong?!"

Peyton's hair was damp from her shower, leaving moisture on the back of the shirt she wore with a pair of jeans. She was sitting on the floor in front of the couch, leaning back against it, knees pulled up to her chest, watching _The Notebook_ with the sound turned way down low. Her cheeks were splotchy, glistening with fresh tears, and she was clutching what looked like a tissue.

Brooke sat next to her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders, allowing Peyton to rest her head against the brunette's shoulder. "What happened?" she whispered. "Are you still sick? Did Luke leave? C'mon, P. Sawyer, you've got to give me some info here, you're scaring me." She tilted her head so that she could look into her friend's eyes.

The blonde shook her head, wiping her eyes. "It's just…life is so stupid, you know? It's just so fucked up sometimes."

"I know," Brooke agreed softly, stroking her friend's hair as she waited for more.

"I thought it was good," Peyton sniffled, "when I told him that I wanted to be friends. I mean, obviously, there's still something there between us, but…I thought it was a good _step_, you know? Friends before anything more. We've been friends before. We can be friends, can't we?"

"You and Luke always found yourselves as a little more than friends," Brooke said gently, "but you're right, it's a good step. A very good one."

"No, it's not. You're right. It was stupid to think that we could just be friends. It was stupid to think that he would _want_ that."

"Peyton…honey, can you just tell me what he said? Or what he did?"

"He didn't _do_ anything," she sighed. "He just stayed here with me all night and took care of me and I realized that it's not fair to make him wait."

"Oh, P. Sawyer. He would happily wait for you."

"But it's not _fair_," she cried, tears slipping down her cheeks. "It isn't fair for me to hurt him. I should've stayed away. I shouldn't have led him on. He _should_ date that stupid editor girl. She's beautiful and she's successful and she's probably so smart…what am I _doing_, letting him help me create a label and putting effort into the future? I'm an idiot."

"You are _not_," Brooke said firmly, pulling her a little closer. "I understand that you're a little bit scared right now, but I'm sure he knows it too. Lucas isn't going anywhere. He's not dating anyone else. Trust me, Peyton, that boy only has eyes for you."

"He shouldn't," she murmurs.

"Shut up; he should."

Peyton buried her face in her hands. "I feel like…like we broke up before we were even together."

"I'm sorry," Brooke breathed sympathetically. "But you'll work it out. You _will_. I know it. One day you'll get it together. Even Julian knows it."

Peyton frowned, taken aback. "You two talk about _me _and _Luke_?"

"Yep," Brooke agreed shamelessly, grinning at her.

Peyton couldn't help but smile as well. "He seems pretty great. I'm _really_ glad you're happy, B. It's great to see."

"Thanks, P. Sawyer," Brooke said warmly, touched by her words. "Um…actually, speaking of Julian…he asked me to move in with him today."

"Brooke. Oh my God. That's awesome!"

"I said no," she admitted, laughing at Peyton's instant scowl. "P. Sawyer, come on! You just got home, I can't leave you right now. And I love this house."

"Yeah, but you love _him_ more. You should do it, B. Davis. Don't even think about me, I'm going to be totally find. Go, right now, call him and tell him you changed your mind," she ordered.

Brooke laughed. "Actually…he asked if he could move in with me, with _us_, instead. And I understand if that's totally weird," she said hurriedly, "You can say no and there are no hard feelings."

"Are you kidding me? Of course he has to. Call him and tell him to start _packing_."

"Really?"

"_Yes_. B. Davis, you want this, don't you?"

"Well, yeah…"

"Then I want it for you." She smiled slightly. "We've got a man moving in."

Brooke studied her worriedly. "You're really okay with it?"

"More than okay."

"And…you two aren't…"

"Going to fall madly in love and eat watermelon in the middle of the night and have slutty kitchen sex while you're away on some overnight trip?" Peyton smiled fully, shaking her head. "No. I promise."

Brooke smiled softly at her, appreciating how well they knew each other, and wrapped both arms around the blonde in a hug. "Thanks. I love you, P. Sawyer."

"Love you too," Peyton said quietly.

Brooke sighed as they pulled apart, running her fingers through Peyton's hair. "Now, what can I do to make you feel better?"

Peyton sighed and shrugged, settling back against the couch once again and staring at the screen. "Can you just sit here with me until the movie ends?"

She nodded, settling in as well. "Of course." She grabbed a pillow and placed it in her lap. "Lie down."

The blonde sprawled out on the floor, her head in her friend's lap, and fell asleep nearly twenty minutes later. When she passed out, Brooke reached over to pry the tissue out of her hand, but discovered that it was actually a crumpled piece of paper, upon which was written in writing she recognized easily as Lucas';

_I'll wait forever if I have to_.

xxx

"Peyton, this looks _great_," Haley gushed when she arrived at the studio, spinning around on the spot as she took it all in. "How'd you get all this done so quickly?"

She shuffled through some papers so that she'd have something to distract herself. "Oh, uh…Lucas helped me."

"_Did_ he?" Haley asked, her eyes sparkling. "I should've known." She propped her elbows up on top of the piano as she watched Peyton dig through her things. "How are things going with you two?"

"Um, we…we're kind of taking a bit of a break right now."

"A break?" Haley frowned worriedly. "For how long?"

Peyton sighed, running her fingers through her hair. "Maybe permanently."

"_What_? Why?"

"It's just…I wanted us to be friends."

"He wanted that, too," Haley reminded her. "And I was under the impression that the whole friends thing was going well."

Peyton shrugged. "It was for a while. We just hung out, you know, doing whatever. He painted for me and we mowed his lawn together a few days ago…"

Haley wrinkled her nose. "Are those some kind of…sexual euphemism?"

"Haley!" Peyton threw some sheet music at her. "God! No!"

"I'm sorry!" she laughed.

Peyton glared at her playfully. "You and Brooke have been spending way too much time together without me there as a buffer."

"Good thing you're back, then," Haley said warmly. "But let's go back to discussing Luke."

"He helped me paint, _literally_," she stressed, gesturing to the room, "And we mowed his lawn, _literally_, taking turns and drinking lemonade and teasing each other…why is the idea of us being friends so difficult for everyone to believe?"

"Because we all know you want more," Haley told her gently. "Both of you do, don't you?"

"He definitely does."

"And you?"

"I…I do, but I don't know if I really want to go for it, and I definitely don't want things to happen too quickly. I wasn't feeling well last night and he took such good care of me and we woke up in the same bed…and it was moving too fast. I feel like I'm leading him on."

Haley shook her head. "Luke's not that guy," she said soothingly.

"It's just that…we've _always_ wanted more than friendship with each other, and we always admit it when it's a little too late, and we just dive right into it. And it's so good and it feels so right, but eventually something goes wrong or we make a mistake and it all goes to hell. This time…I don't want that to happen. It hurts. I can't do it."

"This time is different," Haley pointed out. "You're older now, and you know each other better. You both know what you feel and you've basically told each other that. You can afford to be a little crazy this time."

"It's just tiring," Peyton whispered wearily.

"I know, honey, and I'm sorry for that. But this has so much potential to be _it_ for you two. I love you both and I want you both to be happy, and you can be. I think you just need to let yourself believe that you can actually get your happily ever after. This could be the beginning of forever."

She sighed deeply. "I don't have forever," she muttered.

"What?" Haley asked, not having heard her.

Peyton looked over at her and smiled. "Maybe," she said noncommittally. "Now enough about me, let's make your record!"

xxx

"B. Davis!" Peyton called when she walked into the house.

Brooke smiled from where she sat at the counter in the kitchen, sketching out designs. "Hey, you. You look happier."

"I'm working on it," Peyton agreed as she took a seat next to her friend. "Do you have plans tonight?"

The brunette abandoned her sketches instantly. "No. Why, you wanna do something?" she asked excitedly.

"Um, well…I might have kind of possibly told Haley about Julian moving in. And she invited me and you and him to come over for dinner tonight." She winced. "Do you hate me?"

Brooke rolled her eyes. "Of course not. Naley celebrate everything with a barbecue." She hopped up off the stool she'd been sitting on and patted Peyton's knee. "Now put on something pretty. My happiness must be celebrated in style."

"Of course," Peyton laughed, walking into her room to search through her closet.

The moment Peyton's door was closed Brooke grabbed her phone and dialed. "Hey, Mrs. Scott," she greeted when Haley picked up.

"Brooke, hey! I'm so happy for you and Julian. I think this is really good."

"Thanks, Hales," she said fondly.

"Are you guys coming over?"

"Yeah, we're just getting ready now. Do you want us to bring anything?"

"_Dessert_!" she heard Jamie yell in the background, and both women laughed.

"Just yourselves," Haley laughed.

"I might have to bring some ice cream for my favourite guy," Brooke admitted.

"Yeah, I figured. We'll see you soon?"

"Not so fast," Brooke said quickly. "Haley James Scott…are you scheming what I think you're scheming?"

There was a long pause before Haley finally admitted, "Yes."

Brooke grinned widely. "And so the tutor has become the student," she said triumphantly. "I have taught you so well."

"Yeah, yeah," Haley laughed. "Will you just make sure she's drop-dead gorgeous by the time you two get here?"

The brunette squealed. "I love you!" she cried excitedly, and hung up, hurrying off to find Peyton something to wear.

xxx

"Brooke, I really don't see why I had to wear this dress," Peyton mumbled as Julian drove them both to Nathan and Haley's house.

Brooke shrugged. "Is it so wrong that I want people around to look as hot as I do?"

"It's just a barbecue with my closest friends. I'm overdressed." She stared at the green-and-gold dress she was wearing and sighed, wondering exactly how Brooke had managed to talk her into putting it on in the first place.

"Don't worry about it," Brooke said firmly. "You look amazing. Doesn't she?" she asked Julian.

He nodded emphatically as he pulled into the driveway. "I'm thinking watermelon kitchen sex is a real possibility."

Both women rolled their eyes and slammed their doors as they got out. He laughed as he joined them, and they all walked into the backyard.

"Hey, we're here!" Brooke called out to Nathan, Haley, and Jamie, who were sitting by the pool with their feet in the water. "And we brought ice cream," she added, laughing as Jamie scrambled up to hug her.

Haley stood as well, smiling. "Hey." She took the ice cream out of Brooke hands and gave it to Peyton, "Will you do me a favour and put this in the freezer? I have to supervise Nathan's barbequing."

"Hey!" her husband protested, and Peyton laughed, accepting the tub of Death by Chocolate.

"No problem," she said easily, walking into the house through the sliding door.

The moment she stepped into the kitchen she froze. "What're you doing here?" she blurted, sounding more hostile than she actually felt.

"I, uh…I'm getting the drinks," Lucas shrugged, gesturing to the glasses in front of him.

"Of course you are," she sighed, glancing downward. Her dress made a lot more sense now.

"What are _you_ doing?"

"Ice cream. Freezer."

He nodded slowly, coming to the same conclusion that she had. "Of course you are." He sighed. "I shouldn't have left this morning."

She shook her head. "No, it's okay, I…I told you to."

"Yeah," he muttered, taking a cautious step toward her. He took the ice cream out of her hands and took her unresisting hands in his, warming them up. "But you didn't say that you wanted me to."


	8. Fearing Love, Fearing Life

**A/N:** Forgive my babbling for a moment, if you will. Today was a big day in my little corner of the world. I've got personal stuff going on, as does everyone at all times, but moreover, I wrote my last exam today and am now officially free of high school. I've still got tons of grad stuff to do, but it's really bittersweet, and I've spent the majority of the day alternating between laughing and crying. I also laughed and cried over what was, as far as I'm concerned, OTH's final episode. I've only watched and loved this show for less than a year, but I feel incredibly invested in it – or really, in LP. Chad and Hilarie had gorgeous, explosive chemistry; LP saved each other and fixed each other and loved each other and found their way to where they were meant to be, got the happy ending they deserved, and had the _cutest_ baby ever. Put simply, they were love. And it's a love I can see myself wanting to write fanfiction about for months and probably years to come. I'm pretty mushy today, I admit, but I just wanted to say that I adore all of you who read/support this story and any of my others, and all of you who write the excellent fanfiction I love to read. I feel really great about having found such an awesome fan base to belong to: our 'ship is totally awesome, and I believe that we are, too.

So this one's for you, my darlings. Here's to the end of a really beautiful era!

**Chapter Seven**

_To fear love is to fear life, and those who fear life are already three parts dead._

-- Bertrand Russell, from _Marriage and Morals_

She pulled her hands from his incredibly slowly, skin sliding against skin, as if she was trying to break his heart in this most delicate, gentle way possible. Once she had her hands back she crossed her arms, eliminating all possibilities of hand-to-hand contact.

"Okay," she breathed, "Well, we can do this. This is fine. We'll just…avoid each other."

"Peyton." He squinted at her, both frustrated and concerned. "There are six people here, seven if you count Jamie. We can't exactly avoid each other. And moreover, I really don't _want_ to avoid you. I want to talk. About us. You said this morning that I should reconsider whether this, _we_, were worth it, and we are, and I don't want to…I _want_ there to be an us, Peyton, and I want to talk about it with you right now."

She shook her head. "You're just being stubborn."

"_I'm_ being stubborn?" he demanded, a smile playing on his lips, begging to form.

She picked the ice cream up off the counter and strode over to the freezer, placing it inside. "Will you leave it alone? _Please_?" She gave him her best puppy dog eyes, aware that it was probably an unfair move but without any other options.

"I don't know if I can," he admitted, so bluntly that she was struck speechless for a moment.

"What…what if I asked you to? What if I asked you to leave _us_ as nothing, and what if I asked you to do it for me?"

He scrutinized her face, determining how serious she was, and then he frowned. "If it's really…what you want…" He sighed heavily. "Then I guess I would do it. For you."

Peyton pressed her lips together and rested her hands on her hips, regarding him with sad eyes. "It doesn't matter what I _want_, Lucas. Whether I wanted you to leave this morning or whether I want us or not…it doesn't matter. What matters is what's _best_ for both of us."

"And you think that letting go is best for us?" he challenged her. "For _both_ of us? Because that doesn't look much like a happy ending from where I'm standing."

"Then move," she bit out in retort, and she saw the twinkle of laughter in his eyes.

"Peyt," he said softly.

She ran a hand through her curls and sighed. "I know that right now…it seems stupid and maybe I seem selfish to you, but…it's what's best. You'll realize that soon enough."

Lucas shook his head slowly, clearly thinking many complex thoughts. "It seems a little stupid, but I don't think you're selfish. I think you're scared."

"Yeah!" she cried, throwing her hands in the air, unable to hold back. "I _am_ scared! And you should be too! Why do you insist on doing this to us?!" she demanded, feeling the threat of tears building up beneath her lower lashes, begging to be let go.

Nathan stepped inside at that moment and the blondes instantly looked away from one another, cheeks flushed and breathing erratic. He cleared his throat awkwardly and muttered, "I can, uh…come back…"

Peyton shook her head, brushing past him as she headed back outside. "We're done here," she said, quietly but pointedly, and glared at Nathan as she walked out.

Her glare stayed firmly in place as she approached Haley and Brooke, who were laughing together and nibbling on strawberries, Jamie on Haley's lap. Julian had taken over barbecuing duties.

"Uh oh, that's Peyton's scary face…" Brooke murmured conspiratorially as both women turned to face their friend. "Hey, hon," she greeted the blonde.

"You set me up," Peyton stated, her eyes flashing.

Brooke blinked at her with innocent brown eyes. "P. Sawyer, Luke is one of my closest friends. Doesn't it make sense that he'd want to celebrate us?"

"Uh-huh. Sure. So why exactly am I wearing this dress, huh?"

"Because it looks great on you," Brooke replied evenly, only adding fuel to Peyton's burning rage.

"Why do I have to look great?" she asked angrily. "Maybe I want to look like a slob, did you ever think of that?"

Haley's expression was one balanced between concern and amusement. "Peyton, we just want to see the two of you happy. I know things in L.A. didn't work out for you the way you thought they would, and Lucas has been living this shadow of what his life was when you were in it…we just don't want to see the two of you waste time."

"What's good for me and what's good for Luke right now is for us to be apart. It's _my_ relationship, _our_ relationship…and we're going to make the decisions."

"The two of you are?" Brooke asked delicately. "Or _you_ are?"

"Why? You want me to be unhappy?"

Brooke sighed melodramatically. "Sweetie, of course not. But what Julian convinced me to believe when I started dating him, and when we got serious, and now that we're going to live together…is not to waste time. When he knew he loved me, he told me right away, even though he could have predicted my slightly horrified reaction…" She winced playfully at the memory before her lips curved into a gentle smile. "He's taught me not to hold back. Live in the moment and go for what you want in the moment. What happens if you get hit by a bus a couple months from now?"

"Brooke!" Haley cried, aghast.

"It's a _hypothetical_," the brunette insisted. "So, you get hit by a bus, and you die. And you're hanging out in heaven…and all you're going to be thinking is, _what if Luke and I had that time? What if I'd told him how much he means to me_?"

The shock of Brooke's words seemed to seep into her mind at a painfully slow rate. She wasn't going to get hit by a bus, but she was facing an ending in the not-so-distant future, and she wasn't sure exactly what to do to prepare for it. Carefully, she sat down, joining her friends at the picnic table. Haley reached over and gave her hand a supportive squeeze.

"Okay. So, say I do…get hit by that bus. What is that going to do to Lucas? How is he going to feel when he's left alone without me? How is he going to feel about my having initiated something with him when I knew that I was going to get hit by a bus eventually? It hurts so badly to lose someone you love. I _know_ that. He'd wish that he'd never gotten involved with me again, because the pain can't be worth it."

Haley and Brooke exchanged a brief, baffled look at the extent to which Peyton had taken the hypothetical situation.

"P. Sawyer," Brooke said, "you can't _predict_ getting hit by a bus. He'd never hold that against you. Besides, it's not going to happen. You're young, you're gorgeous, you've learned to stop at red lights and go at the green ones…right?"

Smiling slightly, Peyton nodded. "But…"

"But nothing," Haley interjected softly, kissing the top of Jamie's head. "I hate to even think of losing Nathan, but if he came to me tomorrow and told me that he had two months, or even if I didn't know that was all the time we had left…I would want to spend it with him, because it would hurt even more not to spend that time loving him, not to say my goodbye, not to tell him that I love him." She gave Peyton's fingers another squeeze. "Carpe diem, hon."

xxx

"Hey," Julian said, stepping inside the house. "Steak's done. Are the drinks ready?" He paused and laughed when he saw the empty glasses. "Guess not. The girls probably should have done this."

Nathan laughed. "We were just talking about…"

"Peyton?" he guessed easily. At their inquisitive looks, he clarified, "They're out there talking about you, Luke."

"Saying what?" he asked with guarded curiosity.

Julian chuckled. "You know Brooke would find out if I told you, and that she'd kill me for telling you."

Both men nodded. "Congratulations, by the way," Nathan added, "on moving in with Brooke. You're good for her. She's good for you."

He grinned. "Thanks, man."

"Okay, _he's_ happy," Lucas told his brother, "can we get back to _my _problem?"

Nathan shrugged apologetically. "Sorry, bro. I don't know what to tell you. She's one complicated girl, and you've always understood her better than I have."

Lucas sighed in defeat. "Maybe she's right. Maybe we're over. I should just leave her alone," he said, though he really wanted to do anything but that.

Drumming his fingers against the countertop, Julian spoke up, "Look, Lucas, I know I haven't been here for the whole saga of Lucas and Peyton, and I know we're not exactly great friends yet, but have you seen the way that girl you're avoiding looks at you? The way she looks when she's around you?" He cracked his infamous grin. "Have you just seen the way she _looks_?"

Nathan grinned as well, punching his brother's arm. "Good in bed, too."

Lucas gave him an incredulous look, his jaw dropping. "_Seriously_?" he demanded. "_That_ is your supportive advice?"

His brother shrugged and laughed. "I'm sorry, dude, but I'm just trying to remind you of what you're missing. Anything to make you two get over yourselves," he added with a shake of his head. He reached into the fridge for the lemonade Haley had mixed earlier and followed Julian out the door, calling over his shoulder, "Grab those glasses, will ya, Luke?"

xxx

"_I'm_ the better cook," Brooke protested playfully, pouting at her boyfriend.

"Brooke, I love you…but no, you're not," Julian told her gently, a laugh in his words.

"You know, you two could _both_ cook," Haley told them. "Maybe Nathan could learn by example," she added, shooting her husband and teasingly irritated look.

"Hey, I help you, baby," he protested, leaning in and kissing her cheek. "Just not in the kitchen."

Brooke wiggled her eyebrows playfully. "Now, what does _that_ mean, exactly?"

Haley laughed, rolling her eyes. "Hey, Peyton," she said gently, calling the blonde out of silence. "Do you think Brooke'll take over kitchen duty, or do you think it'll be Julian?"

Peyton attempted a smile as she picked at her coleslaw. "I don't know."

"Well, we know it won't be you, P. Sawyer," Brooke said, playfully elbowing her friend in the ribs, trying to dredge up a genuine grin of some sort.

"Yeah, you're kind of a disaster in the kitchen, aren't you, Sawyer?" Nathan teases.

Her smile grew a little bit. "Not a _disaster_…"

"Tragedy? Calamity? Catastrophe?" Haley supplied synonyms willingly.

"Hey, no, I'm not that bad!"

"Please," Lucas scoffed, not unkindly, as he speared a leaf of lettuce with his fork with a little more force than necessary. He looked up and met her eyes across the table. "Chocolate chip cookies?"

Peyton froze, her heart in her throat. She wanted to go back to that day so badly, the day they'd agreed to be happy, the day they'd fought with cookie dough like little kids and made out on her kitchen floor, one of the many days she'd fallen just a little bit more in love with him. "Excuse me," she murmured, standing from the table and fleeing inside and up to the bathroom, where she could lock herself away.

xxx

"Peyton?" Knocking on the bathroom door felt like some unfortunate kind of déjà vu. "Can I come in?"

There was silence and he was seconds away from giving up when her voice said softly, "It's unlocked."

Lucas opened the door only to find her sitting on the floor with her back against the side of the bathtub, her hair falling in curtains on either side of her face. He closed the door quietly behind himself and sat carefully at her side, his thigh pressing gently against hers. He lifted a hand and gently brushed her hair back, tucking it behind her ear with so much tenderness that she felt her heart speed up. "I love these curls," he mused adoringly, and colour sprang to her cheeks.

She wiped at her eyes even though none of her tears had actually escaped. "I'm sorry for being such a spaz. I really am. I just…I think that I know how I _should_ feel right now…"

"And it's not how you _do_ feel?"

She looked at him vulnerably. "There are things that I want to say to you that I just _can't_ right now."

"That's okay," he said softly. "Someday, then."

Peyton sighed wearily. "This isn't working too awesome, huh? And I was a fool to think it would. We can't just take it day by day. We can't take time up. We can be friends but there's always something else there. That's just how we are. You can't even mock my pathetic cooking skills without me having to hide away from you and cry, for God's sake."

He smiled easily. "Your cooking isn't pathetic. That was the best chocolate chip cookie I ever had, to this day."

Swallowing hard, she asked, "Do you mean that, Lucas? Do you seriously feel the same way that you did then?"

"It's definitely what I feel, and I even think it's what I _should_ feel."

"But what was the point of us breaking up…if we're only going to end up back together? We broke up for a _reason_, a real reason."

"Not really," he contradicted her gently. "We broke up because I missed you. I missed you so badly that I stupidly thought it would be better to cut you out altogether than to miss you like I did. And our breaking up, our being apart…it taught me that missing you is so much better because at least then I get to love you. My life with you in it is far better than without you, and that's the way it's supposed to be. I've always known it, I think…our being apart just clarified it for me." He paused and took a long look at her.

Her heart clenched up. "Forever is a hard thing to commit to, Luke," she said carefully, "I could promise you the world and I'd mean every word of it…but I can't control everything that happens to me or to us. I mean, look at my mom, at both my moms. Circumstances get in the way and they can break your heart all over again."

"There's a risk in everything in life, Peyt. And love has probably got the most risks of all because it makes you feel more than anything else. But the risk is worth it, I promise you that. I am so willing to take that risk with you because it is _so_ fucking worth it."

She sucked in some air and shook her head slightly. He didn't know what he was saying; he didn't know what he was volunteering to commit to. "Even if I got hit by a bus tomorrow?"

"Even then," he vowed seriously, their eyes locked. "Peyt…if you're scared, it's okay. I know how much our break up hurt us both and if you're scared, I promise you that it's okay, and that we can work through all of that together if that's what you choose, because I know that's what I want. But screw what you think you _should_ want. Let your feel what you _do_ want."

"Luke…"

"I can't give up," he said simply, shrugging. "I can't give up on me and you. And I think it matters a whole lot what you _want_, because I can see in those green eyes of yours right now that you don't _want_ me to give up. I know you, I've loved you…and I don't think that you want to give up either." She inhaled sharply and he continued, "I'll wait however long it takes you to believe that you don't need to protect either of us from what we're feeling. I _meant_ what I said in that note. I'll wait forever if I have to."

Her eyes were flooded with tears; one escaped and glided down her cheek and he lifted his hand to wipe it away.

"Is this hard for you?" he asked her softly, "Me and you, the way we are now, is it hard for you?"

She nodded emphatically, whispering, "Yeah…it's really hard."

"For me, too. And that…that _sucks_. Doesn't it? It's hard for me, but what really kills me is that you're being so damn self-destructive." Her eyes flashed and her hurried on, "C'mon, Peyton, you know what I mean. It's one thing to hurt me in order to protect your own heart…but why are you hurting yourself?"

"I wish…" She trailed off, biting her lower lip and meeting his eyes once more. "I wish I could give you the answer to that question right now, but I…"

"That's _okay_," he insisted. "It's okay. I hate being less than friends and I want so badly to be more than friends…but if this on and off friendship thing we're both badly attempting to do –" He was interrupted by her weak chuckle, " – is what is going to get us from one phase to the other, I'll do it. I'll do it for as long as it takes, even until forever."

Peyton took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment, facing forward. "I guess I…I don't really want this on-off friendship thing to work. I don't want…I guess that I don't want you to wait…I definitely don't want you to wait forever."

Lucas tried to ignore the feeling that she was turning down everything he'd just said he was willing to promise her. He blinked rapidly and reminded himself to breath, trying not to let her see how wounded he was. "So what _do_ you want?" he demanded, a little bit roughly, "Where the hell does that leave us?"

She looked at him with a soft smile on her lips, the meaning of which he didn't quite understand. "I _want_ what you _want_," she said mutedly, earnestly. "And I think that that leaves us right about…" She leaned in close to him, the entire side of her body pressing against his, her eyes fluttering closed, her nose brushing against his briefly. "_Here_," she whispered firmly in conclusion, her lips finding his.


	9. The Idealized Past

**A/N:** Is it getting redundant for me to keep telling you guys how wonderful you are? Well, you just won't stop, so I've got to tell you again. On a small side note: Robertson Davies is an amazing author and if you haven't read his works, particularly the trilogy that begins with _Fifth Business, _I completely recommend them. Enjoy this chapter. I'm excited for the next one, and I think you guys will be, too. ;) Reviews are love.

**Chapter Eight**

_The world is full of people whose notion of a satisfactory future is, in fact, a return to the idealized past._

-- Robertson Davies, from _Voices in the Attic_

"M'lady." Lucas tipped an imaginary hat and extended a bouquet of lilies toward Peyton when she opened the door for him.

Her heart melted, but Brooke spoke up from behind her before Peyton could form a response. "Aw," she cooed, one hand over her heart. "You're such a classic romantic, Lucas Scott."

He smirked sweetly and replied, "Thanks, Brooke," but he didn't take his eyes off of Peyton as she accepted the flowers from him.

"You got me lilies," she breathed, smiling softly as they locked eyes.

"Oh, God, you're like fourteen-year-olds," Brooke sighed. "P. Sawyer, quit undressing him with your eyes, search for a vase, get all blush-y and gushy, and get your asses out of here." She rolled her eyes, propping her elbows up on the counter while Peyton spun around and headed into the kitchen in search of a vase. "I don't really see why this whole traditional dating thing – second cupboard on the left, P.," she lazily directed her friend, " – is necessary. You two were together for years, you're still so obviously in love…" She popped a grape into her mouth and kinked her eyebrows. "Plus we all caught you makin' out at Naley's the other night."

Peyton turned off the tap and set the now-filled vase on the counter. "We were not _making out_," she insisted. Mumbling, she added, "And I was _not_ undressing him with my eyes."

Brooke grinned. "You two are adorable."

Peyton gently placed the flowers in the vase and then strode across the kitchen. "We're also _leaving_. Let's go, Luke."

"Aw, P. Sawyer, you can't blame me, can you? I'm living with my guy; I don't get to do all this cutesy stuff anymore!" Her eyes lit up as she turned to Lucas. "Ooh! Are you gonna kiss her on the porch when you drop her off? Are you?" she demanded eagerly, practically bouncing up and down.

"_Bye_," Peyton said pointedly as she picked up her purse and walked out the door, tugging on Lucas' sleeve to pull him out after her.

"Bye, Brooke," he added laughingly, allowing Peyton to drag him along.

"_Are_ you?" she asked once more, brown eyes gleaming.

He winked, nodding at her before her stepped outside and closed the door.

Alone in the kitchen, she squealed delightedly. Julian emerged from what was now their bedroom, smiling when he saw how happy she was.

He walked over to her and pulled her into his arms. "What's got you giggling?"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. "I'm in love and my best friend is only days away from admitting that she is, too." She grinned brightly. "Life is pretty wonderful right now."

xxx

"Thanks," Peyton said softly, a laugh at the back of her throat, when Lucas parked and hopped out of the car, circling around quickly so that he could open her door for her. She cupped his cheek in her hand lightly as she stepped out. "Are you going to be this formal all night?"

He squinted in that familiar way of his. "Is this formal? Is it weird?"

She shrugged. "I'm not exactly sure what's normal for us anymore. And I can't exactly complain about you being so polite, can I?"

He shrugged as well, looking bashful and young for a moment, reminding her of the boy he was when they first met. Her eyes searched his and his hand landed lightly on her hip, and she thought that if she just kissed him right at that moment, any and all of the awkwardness would evaporate, but the moment was interrupted by the enthusiastic squeal of "_Hi!_" in a familiar voice.

Nathan and Haley were walking toward them, Haley beaming brightly, and a sleepy Jamie settled comfortably in his father's arms.

"What's up, you two?" Haley chirped as if she didn't already know.

Peyton smiled. "My gentleman caller over here was just taking me out for the evening. I'm guessing we're going for dinner and a movie. Hey, baby boy," she added in a softer, sweeter tone, reaching out to take Jamie.

"Playing it safe," Nathan said, shaking his head as if he was ashamed of his brother, easing his son into Peyton's waiting arms.

"Hi," she murmured adoringly while Lucas rebuked Nathan's comment. "Hi, you beautiful boy. You remember me, right? Aunt Peyton?" she reminded him, and he nodded tiredly, smiling softly.

"Somebody's in love with you," Haley commented quietly, winking when she caught Peyton's eye. "And I don't just mean Luke."

Lucas shot Haley a look and she only shrugged. "_What_? It's true. Jamie totally loves her," she said innocently, raising her eyebrows, daring him to challenge her again.

He chuckled and rolled his eyes slightly, but they all knew he wasn't truly upset because they also knew that Haley was right. He rested his hand at the small of Peyton's back, and she could feel the gentle admiration, the beginnings of hope, in his gaze as he watched Jamie snuggle closer to Peyton, sighing contentedly as he rested his head against her neck.

For the very first time, she felt real, harsh pangs of loss. The way it felt to hold Jamie's small, warm body close enough to feel his heartbeat coupled with the way Lucas was looking at her, gave her a breathless sense of panic, the need to prevent this feeling from ending. It was bigger and more powerful than the regret she'd felt when she realized she couldn't get cats. It was heart-wrenching and akin to grief.

She sucked in some air and forced herself to smile again, unable to meet Lucas' eyes. "We should probably get going, right? Here, honey, go back to your daddy," she told Jamie softly, pressing her lips against the top of his head before she reluctantly handed him back to Nathan.

"Have fun tonight!" Haley said brightly, and Nathan winked.

"Bye," she said softly, watching the family she'd never have for herself walk away.

"Are you okay?" Lucas asked, tilting his head so that he could look her in the eye.

"Yeah," she said, reminding herself to focus on being in the moment with him. She slipped her hand into his, loving the easy way their fingers intertwined. "Where're you taking me to eat, good sir?"

Grinning, he shook his head. "What kind of date would I be if I told you?"

She frowned playfully. "The kind that knows that his date hates surprises."

He gave her a private grin, one full of adoration and promises. "I'm not sure about my _date_, but I'd definitely remember if my _girlfriend_ hated surprises."

Peyton glanced down, peeking up at him through her eyelashes. "I thought we were taking it slow," she reminded him softly.

Lucas laughed. "Peyt, of all the things I want with you, your being my girlfriend is only the first step on the ladder."

"Luke," she sighed, stopping short, clinging tightly to his hand. She had to say something, but she wasn't sure exactly what it was.

Sighing as well, he stopped at her side and gently tucked her hair out of her face. He spoke quietly, his lips grazing her ear: "It's going to be good this time. I'm not going to hurt you; I'm not going to leave me. I just want you to let me in. I want the rest of my life with you – what Nathan and Haley have, together, and with Jamie…that's what I want for us. I promise."

A strangled sob tore out of her throat; she couldn't hold it back. "But what if _I'm_ the problem?" she asked him tearfully. "What if I can't be that, what if I can't give you any of that? What if I hurt you? What if I…_leave_ you?"

To her surprise, he laughed lightly, pulling her into his arms protectively and dropping kisses into her hair. "You could never be the problem."

"Luke, I'm serious," she murmured pitifully into his shoulder.

"I am, too," he insisted. "You are always good and strong for us, even when I don't give you a reason to be. And I'm not asking for you to promise me anything, not now and not ever, not if you want to. I want my future with you, but what really matters is right now, me and you." He released her slowly, clasping her hand in his once more as she wiped her eyes with her free hand. "I want to make you _happy_, you moody girl," he told her, affectionately teasing, "So let's go and eat, okay?"

She smiled back at him because she couldn't help it, not with the way he was looking at her, and she found herself nodding. "Okay. Let's go eat."

xxx

Peyton burst out laughing halfway through dessert, covering her mouth with her hand, and Lucas gave her a remarkably sexy smirk over the candlelit table.

"What?" he asked.

"Brooke's right," she giggled. "We _are_ like fourteen-year-olds." She smiled at him skeptically. "You're playing _footsie_ with me, really?"

He arched his eyebrows. "Is there something else you'd like me to do, Miss Sawyer?" he asked her, his toe grazing her ankle once again, and she couldn't deny that it sent a small shiver up her spine.

She frowned at him playfully. "Keep your appendages to yourself, mister," she ordered as she took another bite of her chocolate cheesecake.

Lucas smiled, reaching across the table to take her hand, his thumb grazing her knuckles intimately. "Are you happy?" he asked her earnestly.

"Dude, you gave me chocolate. Of course I'm happy," she teased, softening her smile once the moment of levity passed. "Yeah, Luke, I'm happy. But…"

He nodded knowingly. "_But_…?"

"But this just…this is so sweet of you, but doesn't it seem kind of weird, going on such a typical first date, like we don't know each other at all?"

He shrugged. "I figured this was part of taking it slow. You know, the cliché date."

Peyton nodded slowly, folding her arms on the table in front of her and leaning toward him. "It might be a cliché _date_…but I can think of a few things your _girlfriend_ would rather do?"

Lucas grinned instantly, his whole face lighting up, but he teased her as though he had reservations about her words. "Jeez, Peyton, I don't know…that seems kind of _fast_…"

She rolled her eyes, smiling back at him. "Will you shut up and go pay the bill, because I know that you won't let me spend anything tonight, and then we can get out of here?"

He wiggled his eyebrows. "Or we could…_not_ pay."

She gasped. "Lucas. We're not kids anymore. This place is _expensive_."

He stared at her without caving. "My girl wouldn't say no to a dare."

Peyton blushed at his words and stared back, sizing him up to determine how serious he was. "No," she finally admitted, "I guess you're right."

"So what do you say, babe?"

She dropped one eyelid in a wink she knew would drive him crazy and stood up smoothly. "I say…I'll see you on the outside," she whispered, leaning down to kiss his cheek before she walked out, grabbing his car keys on the way so that they'd be able to make a quick exit.

xxx

"So…" Peyton drawled knowingly as Lucas pulled into a space in the parking lot of Tree Hill's movie theatre, "How much did you tip that waitress to run out and yell at us?"

He smirked sheepishly. "Twenty bucks."

"Luke!" she cried, aghast. "That's ridiculous!"

He shrugged. "It was worth it, though, wasn't it?"

"Yeah…" she admitted laughingly. "It was a pretty great adrenaline rush. It felt like…"

"Like it used to," he filled in, resting his arm across the seat, behind her back. "Like it always has. You and me."

Peyton smiled softly, nodding. "Like it always has," she agreed. She nodded toward the building they were parked in front of. "Are you going to pull some crazy stunt in there, too?"

"Oh, I'm sorry – is our date still too much of a cliché for you?"

She rolled her eyes. "No. It's been pretty perfect."

Lucas smiled back, running his fingers lightly through her hair. "Does that mean you won't hate me if I suggest a romantic comedy? Or, heaven forbid, a chick flick?"

She laughed as she unbuckled her seatbelt. "I could never hate you," she said simply with a slight shrug at the easy honesty of those words. "With you, I don't ever stop…" It was definitely too early to finish that sentence, but she only had to look into his eyes for a second to know that he understood.

Lucas looped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close to him as they walked toward the theatre and kissing her cheek. "I know," he assured her. "Me, too."

xxx

It happened so suddenly that it terrified her. One second she felt perfectly fine, buying lots of buttery popcorn even though they'd just eaten a full meal, teasing Lucas good-naturedly and sipping his soda. And then all of a sudden, everything around her blurred. The faces of everyone around her turned into vibrant pink-and-purple spots, blood rushed to her head, and she found herself losing her balance. She was aware of Lucas crying out in alarm, and it would have been reasonable to assume he'd said her name, but she couldn't make out the exact word.

In the amount of time it took to happen, it ended. Everything snapped back into focus, her headache and her nausea faded away, and she found herself half-sitting, half-lying on the carpeted lobby floor of the theatre in a mess of spilled popcorn, Lucas crouched at her side, his eyes frantic.

"I'm okay," she whispered breathlessly, finding his hand and giving it a squeeze as he helped her sit up fully.

His hands skimmed quickly over her body as if he expected something to be broken. "You can't be. Did you just faint? Do you have a headache? Should I take you to the hospital?"

"_Luke_," she said as firmly as she could, trying to give him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine. Look at me, I'm fine. I just…I got a little dizzy for a second. Maybe I'm not fully over that, um...flu-like thing that I had before. I'm _fine_. Just…embarrassed, that's all."

He looked at her, serious and obviously worried. "_Tell_ me if something hurts, if anything feels wrong."

"I'm okay," she insisted, her eyes searching his, trying to convince him.

"Do you promise me you feel fine now?"

"Yeah. I do. Just…take me home and let me sleep. I'm sure I'll be totally fine by tomorrow. Okay? Can I get off the floor now?" she asked, trying to joke around.

"Okay," he murmured, clearly still concerned as he helped her stand. An employee told them not to worry about the mess; Lucas thanked her and guided Peyton toward the exit. "Should I carry you?"

"Luke. No."

"You _swear_ you feel fine?"

"I really do," she told him, attempting a smile once more as they walked through the parking lot and toward his car. He helped her into her seat and sighed, kissing her forehead before he walked around to the other side of the car.

For the entire drive home, she repeatedly promised him that she was alright and gave all the right, reassuring answers to his never-ending stream of questions, wondering the whole way whether or not she was setting him up for heartbreak. No matter the extent of her life, she didn't think she'd be able to live with herself for doing so.

xxx

"You don't feel unsteady at _all_?"

"Luke, I swear to God," she sighed irritably, giving him a look that combined affection and annoyance as they stopped in front of the door to the house she shared with Julian and Brooke.

"Okay," he sighed. "I'm sorry. I just…I worry about you. I can't help it."

"I know. And it's one of the sweetest things about you, and one of the many reasons I…care about you. But I'm fine. I'm sorry we missed the movie."

"Don't worry about it," he said dismissively. "Do you want me to come in and stay with you for a while? Not to make sure you're okay," he backtracked quickly at the expression on her face, "Because you are okay. I just wanted to…spend some time with you."

"Nice save," she said sarcastically, rolling her eyes even as she smiled at him. "I would say yes, but considering this traditional, cliché date you just took me on…I'm not sure that would be appropriate."

He laughed. "So we can eat and run, commit a _crime_, but I can't walk into your house?"

"We _didn't_ commit a crime," she reminded him. "And you, in my home, on the first date?" Her eyes sparkled as she looked at him. "Why, Lucas Scott, what would people say?"

Lucas grinned. "I guess this is where I leave you, then."

"Brooke's home in case I need anything," she promised him, knowing that he'd worry about her.

He nodded. "Would it be socially acceptable for me to call you tomorrow?" he teased.

"It'd be completely _unacceptable_ for you not to call your girlfriend tomorrow," she told him sternly, lacing her fingers through his, both of their hands clasped together as they stood facing one another.

"Good," he said quietly, resting his forehead against hers momentarily. "Should I come up with a disgustingly stereotypical date for tomorrow, too?"

She shook her head, smiling genuinely for the first time since she almost passed out. "Nah. Leave that one to me."

"You've got a plan?" he asked, clearly intrigued.

Peyton nodded proudly. "I liked this, tonight. Being with you…it's like continuity. It's like I never should have been anywhere but with you." When he nodded understandingly, she added, "And I know a pretty sinful chocolate chip cookie recipe I thought we could try out."

"I like your thinking," he said huskily, releasing her hands and lifting his own to cup her face in her hands.

He kissed her softly, the way a date like theirs should have ended, but passionately, the way they'd missed out on for a little over two years. She was weak in the knees by the time they pulled apart, laughing breathlessly.

"It's going to be good this time," he promised her once again, just as he had earlier in the evening, pressing his lips to hers again quickly.

"It'll be perfect," she agreed softly, in that love-struck voice only he could get her to use, speaking before her mind could catch up with her heart.

Lucas grinned, winking at her as he walked down the pathway that lead away from her door.

She stepped inside and closed the door behind her, leaning back against it and taking a deep breath as she closed her eyes. When she opened them again she saw that Brooke was already in her pyjamas and waiting for her in the kitchen with two hot fudge sundaes sitting in front of her and a huge smile on her face.

"Hey, you blissed-out girl!" Brooke said enthusiastically, beaming at her. "Back right in time for curfew and everything," she teased. "Get over here and give me the dirt." Her grin faded away as she looked more closely at Peyton's face. "Hey, sweetie, are you…those are happy tears, right?"

Peyton shrugged, smiling despite her watery eyes, and crossed the room, extending her arms toward her best friend. Brooke hopped up off the stool she'd been sitting on the wrap her up in a hug.

"Aw, P. Sawyer," she said softly, her voice full of sympathy. "What is it? What's wrong?"

Peyton could only hug her back and sigh into her friend's shoulder, because she didn't have words for everything she was feeling. She'd realized that night that everyone she loved was moving on or _wanted_ to move on with their lives, and they all felt with such certainty that she would be doing the same. She missed her history with Lucas so badly and she longed to be with him far into the future, but sooner or later she'd have to face the impossibility of that dream – and more painfully, _so would he_.

She didn't say a word to Brooke because she wasn't equipped with the vocabulary to accompany and to describe the heartbreak that comes with the ability to ruin someone you love with nothing more than that one complex emotion, so innocent and so vicious all at once.


	10. A Beautiful and Terrible Thing

**A/N:** Your reviews are awesome as well as some serious incentive to write, and I love you for it. I hope this chapter is everything I know you've all wanted it to be.

**Chapter Nine**

_The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and must therefore be treated with great caution._

-- J.K. Rowling, from _Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone_

Early in the morning, Peyton awoke to the feeling of her mattress shifting beneath her as another person joined her in bed. She shifted a little bit closer to the other body as her eyes fluttered open, meeting a familiar pair of cerulean orbs, but they didn't belong to the man she'd expected to find there.

Smiling gently, he reached over and brushed her hair out of her face as she squinted at him. "You're not dreaming," he promised her teasingly.

She returned his smile blearily, wryly commenting, "I should be so lucky, right?"

He chuckled good-naturedly, the rumble of his chest radiating through the springs of her mattress. He looked at her with hints of a fondness that made her feel years younger. "You still sleep the same way, you know. All over the place. You practically used to assault me in the middle of the night."

Peyton scrunched up her nose. "So you just came to relive that magic?"

Grinning, he shrugged. "It was kinda cute that you managed to bitch me out even as we slept."

"Shut up," she murmured, hitting his arm lazily. "What're you doing here so early, Nate?"

"I wanted to hang out with you. I figured Lucas would probably be monopolizing you for most of the day, so I thought I'd get here before he did. Which means, of course, that I get to experience your chipper morning personality." He smirked. "So whaddya say, Sawyer?"

"I say…give me ten minutes to get ready and then we'll get out of here."

"Awesome!" he enthused, and did not move.

"You wanna leave so I can change?" she asked, amused, as she arched one of her eyebrows.

"Nope. I'm good here."

She rolled her eyes, grabbing a t-shirt and jeans off of a nearby chair and walking into the bathroom to change.

After she was dressed, she took a moment to examine her reflection in the mirror. She was relieved to see that she didn't look sickly, but she wasn't exactly radiating a healthy glow, either. She sighed and swallowed her pills with a couple mouthfuls of water. When she opened the door, Nathan was waiting on the other side, protein shakes in hand.

He tossed her one with ease as they headed outside. "Drink up, Sawyer. You look exhausted."

Peyton shot him a disgruntled look as she twisted the cap off of the bottle and took a sip. "You know, most girls would interpret that as you having just told me that I look like crap this morning."

"Yeah, sure." He winked at her. "But you're not most girls."

She couldn't help but smile back. "So where are we headed?"

"It's a surprise."

She sighed. The Scott brothers and their need to pull off surprises was something she'd never truly understand. "I hate surprises," she reminded him, though she was sure he remembered. "But despite that and despite the fact that it's ridiculously early…I appreciate you wanting to hang out with me like this."

"Well, you're living with Brooke and Julian, you're dating Luke again, and you're making Haley's record. And, I mean, all of that's great and I'm happy for you…you and Brooke should be spending time together, you and Lucas are obviously going to get married and have like ten kids, and Haley's really excited about this new record. I just feel like I've barely seen you since you got back."

"Nathan Scott," she marvelled softly, teasingly, "you are such a softie."

He gave a careless, bashful shrug and admitted, "I missed ya, that's all."

"I missed you, too," she replied earnestly. "And Nate…you really think this whole record label thing is a good idea? I mean, I am thrilled about making Haley's next record; she deserves it and everyone deserves to hear it because she's got a kickass voice. But it just seems a little crazy for me to be doing it on my own like this, especially right now."

"Why _not_ right now? You've got to go for what you want, what you're meant to do. And right now? You've got to go for what you want, what you're meant to do. And you're not on your _own_. Haley's in this with you, Brooke will always support you, and I know you think my taste in music sucks, but I'm happy to do what I can," he joked. "And as for Lucas…my brother would do anything for you, Peyton. You've got to know that."

"Yeah…" she murmured, her cheeks heating up. Nathan stopped walking and she glanced upward. "This is it? We're here?"

"We're here," he confirmed.

"This is the apartment," she said. No further explanation was required. They'd spent a great deal of time in the last two years of high school in an apartment within the building she and Nathan now stood in front of – they'd all, with the exception of Lucas, lived there at one time or another. Peyton's jaw dropped. "_Please_ tell me you don't still own this place."

He laughed. "No, but I pass this building sometimes on my run. C'mon, let's go around back."

"Isn't that…trespassing?"

"Does it matter?" he chuckled, leading her toward the pool. "Do you remember this? Boy To

"Isn't that…trespassing?"

"Does it matter?" he chuckled, leading her toward the pool. "Do you remember this? Boy Toy Auction?"

Peyton grinned reminiscently. "God, that feels like forever ago…" she murmured as they sat down together at the edge of the pool. She rolled up the bottoms of her jeans so that she could stick her feet in the water. "I never would have guessed that night that two years later you'd be married with a baby," she giggled.

"Yeah, I would've guessed it'd happen to you before me."

"What?" she spluttered. "You were with Haley then. I didn't even have a boyfriend. Luke and Brooke and I were all messes."

"Sure. But it's always been obvious: you and Luke. I'm glad you guys are…figuring things out again. It's right."

Peyton smiled softly at him, touched by his words. "Thanks, Nathan. Same goes for you and Haley, you know. If someone had told me the last time we were here that the two of you would get married in a couple weeks, I would have said it was crazy…but it wasn't and it's not. It's right."

"You've turned into such a sap," he teased her gently, wrapping an arm around her shoulders.

She gave a watery laugh as she leaned into him. "It's your fault for bringing me here and talking about high school."

"I guess I brought you here…to tell you that I'm glad you're back home. You're a big part of my history, Peyton," he said simply. "And I'm glad you'll be here for the future, too."

She looked at him for a long moment, and she found herself ready, and maybe even willing to say it. To _tell_ him. She was prepared to reveal it all, to let him bear a little bit of her burden. It was like he'd said, they shared a lot of history, and it seemed right that he would know. He would be hurt and sad and most likely devastated, but it wouldn't be quite as awful as telling Lucas would be. She could say it. _Nathan, I'm dying_. And then if she cried or screamed it would be okay, and he would understand why. He would hug her. He would make a lame joke. Maybe he would even scream and cry as well.

_Nathan, I'm dying_. She could say it. All she had to do was say it.

But then the moment passed, and all she could see in his blue eyes was happiness. _Fulfillment_. She wouldn't allow herself to be responsible for the destruction of his contentment.

So she simply nudged his shoulder his hers and grabbed both of his hands, letting a happy moment from their shared history repeat itself as she yanked on his arms and sent them both tumbling into the pool.

xxx

"Hey!" Peyton greeted Lucas happily, grabbing a fistful of his shirt and tugging him into the house, pressing her lips to hers. He made a sound of approval that got her smiling, and so they broke apart. "You're late," she berated him.

He grinned at her warmly, checking his watch. "Only by ten minutes." He placed his hands on her hips and pulled her close to him. "Someone was anxious to see me."

"Oh, yeah?" she teased, careful not to touch him with her batter-smeared hands as she twined her arms easily around his neck. "Who?"

Lucas rolled his eyes and kissed her briefly again. "You taste _really_ good," he said huskily. "Where're Brooke and Julian?"

"At a movie. We're old enough not to be chaperoned, don't you think?" she asked him playfully.

"Oh, I definitely think," he assured her as they walked into the kitchen. "You started without me."

"I wanted to see if I could really make your favourite food yummier this time," Peyton told him. She licked the spoon she'd be using to stir and kissed him again, slipping her tongue into his mouth. "What do you think?" she asked breathlessly.

"I think you could make anything taste good," he said simply, reaching around her and grabbing the spoon so that he could taste the batter for himself. He smiled at her. "You've learned a thing or two about salt."

Peyton shrugged, feigning modesty, and Lucas grinned.

"You look happy," he told her softly. "Are you feeling okay today?"

She rolled her eyes, waving away his words. "I'm fine. I'm better than fine. Nathan woke me up ridiculously early this morning and we ended up…well, going swimming, and I spent most of the early afternoon with Haley in the studio – she wrote this new song which is absolutely _beautiful_. And now I'm here with you, so…" She shrugged. "This day has been great."

"Wow, you got Haley writing again?" He lifted his eyebrows. "She told me she's been struggling with her music lately."

She shrugged again. "I think she just needed to relax and think about nothing but her songs, you know? Her life is so busy, with Nathan's career and all of Jamie's activities and her degree, and she's just trying to handle all of that and keep her family together…she just needed to think about herself and what she wants and what she loves to find her music again." She paused, feeling her heart begin to pound. "Why're you looking at me like that?" she asked him softly.

He shook his head. "You've got a gift, you know? More than one, actually, with music and with art and with…" He trailed off as if she'd left him speechless. "I don't know why the hell they didn't fight to keep you in L.A….but I'm glad they didn't. I'm glad you're here."

Peyton grinned softly. "I'm glad I'm here, too, Luke."

"You're gonna do such great things, Peyton Sawyer," he mused, tucking her hair out of her face even though it didn't need to be done, an old habit of his that she loved him for. "And I want to be there for all of them." He smirked softly, lost in a memory. "I want to be there when your dreams come true."

She blinked quickly and somehow managed to smile back. "I want you there, too," she murmured, resisting the urge to crumble, to fall into him and tell him how many of her dreams they'd both miss out on for reasons beyond their control. Instead, she plastered on a brighter smile and sighed, taking the spoon back from him and joking, "What do you think, do not-too-salty chocolate chip cookies sound like a dream come true?"

"When you've made them for me? Hell yeah." He took a step away from her to turn on the oven. "Here, I'll help you put these in."

"Thanks…" she said quietly, handing him a spoon so that they could place little balls of dough onto the baking tray. She held onto the spoon even when he grasped it. "You really believe all that, don't you? You believe in me, you always have. Since before you even knew me."

Lucas shrugged. "Of course I did."

"I…" She hesitated, unsure of how to say what she felt she needed to. She felt the need to apologize for things he didn't yet know. "I'm sorry if I ever…disappointed you. You gave me everything I needed and I'm just…I'm sorry."

He shook his head. "Peyt, what are you talking about? I haven't exactly been perfect to you at all times. We've both made mistakes." He gently pried the spoon from her fingers, shooting her a reassuring look. "And for the record, babe, you have never once disappointed me, not even with those salty cookies of look. "And for the record, babe, you have never once disappointed me, not even with those salty cookies of yours."

xxx

"This is my favourite thing about you and me," Peyton mused as she and Lucas sat on the kitchen floor, leaning back against the cupboards, waiting for the oven timer to go off. The whole kitchen was still messy and smelled pleasantly of cookies, and they were holding hands, her fingers tracing out intricate designs on his palm.

"What is?" he murmured, nuzzling her neck and pressing a light kiss to her jawbone.

She blushed. She wasn't sure exactly what she was referring to, and she hadn't exactly expected him to ask her to explain. "Lots of things," she admitted. "I guess what I meant was…I love that we can sit here together in silence for almost forty minutes and it never feels awkward. And I love that…no matter how much time passes I fall back into being with you like…"

"Like we were never apart," Lucas agreed, filling in the words.

"Something like that," she whispered.

"Something _like_ that?" he teased her sceptically.

She laughed in that perfect way, the way she laughed when she was laughing simply because she was happy. "Exactly that," she corrected herself. "I never feel that with anyone else."

"Good," he said cheekily, making her laugh once more as the oven timer dinged. "And Peyton…I'm sorry for these last couple years and our break-up and everything. It shouldn't have happened, and I wish we'd been together for these past couple years, but…I know it's going to be better this time because…nothing felt right when I wasn't with you."

She paused halfway through getting up, frowning at him sweetly. "I'd get mad at you for using those lines with me if you didn't mean them."

He grinned back. "But I do. I really do."

"So I forgive you," she agreed, matching his grin with one of her own as she nodded, standing up.

Lucas laughed, grabbing the oven mitts as he stood up from the floor as well, reaching around her from behind to tickle her, kissing her neck. "You sure you wanna keep taking this slow?"

She giggled, elbowing him in the ribs. "Get the cookies, you goof."

"As you wish," he said grandly, making her laugh again. She took a moment to appreciate her view as she stood by the sink, arms crossed over her chest, watching him bend to pull the cookies out. He placed them on the counter and turned back to her, noting the way she was biting her lip and _that_ particular shade of her eyes. "You're checking me out," he remarked cockily.

"Am not!" she cried.

"You're…what would Brooke say?" He wiggled his eyebrows. "Undressing me with your eyes? Is that what you were doing?"

"Stop," she warned.

"Or what?" he challenged her.

"Or…" Peyton looked around and impulsively stuck her finger into the bowl which still contained the leftover batter. She held her finger up and glared at him. "Or this."

He shook his head slowly. "You wouldn't."

"Oh, is that what you think?"

"Peyt…"

"Yeah, I think I will," she said with a devilish grin, crossing the kitchen and smearing her finger across his cheek. His jaw dropped and she asked innocently, "Aw, are you having déjà vu?"

"You're _asking_ for it…" he told her, squinting at her with mock seriousness.

She bit her lower lip, blushing a bit at the potential innuendo in his words. "So give it to me," she dared him, lifting her eyebrows for a second as his eyes widened.

"I can't say no to my girl, now, can I?" he asked, just as innocently, and then he had her shrieking as he wrapped his arms around her waist and lifted her off the floor.

xxx

Peyton was still giggling in a girlish way that she would find entirely embarrassing if she weren't so completely happy as she stepped out of the shower and wrapped a towel around her body. The kitchen was still an utter disaster, and Lucas had volunteered to clean it up after their play fight, which had inevitably lead, once again, to kissing on the kitchen floor. There was something about that that made her the slightest bit giddy – kissing on the kitchen floor. It just seemed so normal and casual and uneventful, and yet so completely perfect and meaningful, the way she loved for things to be in life, they way she loved for things to be with Luke.

When they'd stopped before things got too far, she'd jokingly asked him how they always ended up as such a mess, and he'd told her that his mother always said the very best things in life were _messy but good_. She'd mocked him gently, rolling her eyes and teasing, "Well, if your _mom_ says…" He'd told her to shut up, and informed her that Karen had also told him that Peyton was definitely the girl he was meant to be with. She'd had nothing to say to that; she could only kiss him again.

Kissing on the kitchen floor. It almost broke her heart to know that it couldn't last forever.

She shook off that thought as she pulled her damp hair into a bun before pulling on one of Brooke's tank tops that dipped a little lower than the shirts she normally wore and stepping into a skirt that she knew Lucas would love. He'd suggested they go eat by the river court, which seemed like the perfect ending to the day. She glanced out the bathroom window at the setting sun and got the urge to cry, and then laugh, and then cry again. She was so happy to be in the moment she was in, but she could feel it passing.

"Peyt! Hurry up!"

"One minute!" she called back, taking a deep breath. She was tired, but she didn't really want the day to end. She wanted to savour it. This was one of the good ones, one of the best days, and it was possibly one of her last days that were this _good_.

She walked out of the bathroom, knowing that Lucas would have some sort of cute picnic prepared, and hoping that he might make that face he always made when he thought she looked particularly good. She was ready to have a great evening, to get lost in the little world they almost managed to create for themselves. She was so far from ready for what actually happened.­­

The moment she stepped into the living room, she heard a message being recorded on the machine; clearly, Lucas had decided that it would be better to just leave the phone since he wouldn't have recognized the number.

"…from Tree Hill Memorial's oncology centre. Miss Sawyer, you were referred to me as a patient by Dr. Matheson a few weeks ago and I haven't heard from you. I'd like to meet with you to discuss your current medical protocol and your general treatment options given your prognosis. If you call…"

She stopped listening at that moment, her heart in her throat. Lucas was staring at the answering machine; his eyes lifted slowly, meeting her gaze, boring straight down and into her soul like they'd always been able to do. His expression was stony, but there was still so much emotion in his eyes that it felt like it was suffocating her. Anger, hurt, and the overcoat of denial that she knew so well. Pain on her behalf and on his own, disbelief, something agonizing that may have been heartbreak. His eyes were glistening as if tears were a possibility and she felt herself begin to fall apart.

"Luke…" she gasped out, trying and failing to catch her breath. Her heart was palpitating.

"Cancer?" he murmured, his eyes flashing with something she couldn't name. "You…no. No."

"Lucas," she choked out, any further words getting stuck in her throat.

He stared at her, breathing as rapidly as she was. "You're _sick_? With…you're got…"

Peyton swallowed hard, feeling tears gather in her eyes. "Yes," she whispered. It wouldn't do her any good to lie to him now.

"But…you – you're going to be fine, right? _Right_? You're…you're in remission…?"

"Luke…" She sucked in some air and tried to stay calm, reaching out toward him. "Honey." She stopped short, pressing her lips together. "Come sit down with me," she finally said, a bit defeated. He had to know it all that he knew anything. She couldn't fool him.

She couldn't fool him _one bit_. He knew exactly what it meant when she didn't answer him outright, he could sense all her pain in the way her throat had closed over after she called him _honey_. He'd seen her sick; she'd practically fainted in front of him the night before. He knew how thin she was and he was aware of the bruises on her body, of her tiredness, of her resistance to fully committing to anything at the moment.

So he said the only words that could express everything she'd known he would feel, because she'd never stopped knowing him, not for a second: "_Oh God no."_

And then, overwhelmed, grief-stricken, and unwilling to except the implications of everything she had and hadn't said – tears in his eyes, shaking his head - ­­ he walked out the door.


	11. A Perfect Rose

**A/N:** You guys totally love me right now, right?! You _so_ do. I'm laughing at my own ridiculousness at having made promises not to give up on my LP fics. Some of you complimented me on my really great updating speed on this story. And then, what did I do? I disappeared – granted, I did have several days filled with graduation events that kept me crazily busy, but I'm still very sorry. When it's not writing itself, it's just not as good, and I've got to (try to) be patient with myself. I'm having so much difficulty getting myself into a place where I can write LP right now that it's almost frightening. Anyway, I finally finished this, and while it's not _exactly_ what I'd hoped it would be, I sincerely hope it was worth the wait. Enjoy.

**Chapter Ten**

_He folded his fear into a perfect rose. He held it out in the palm of his hand. She took it from him and put it in her hair. _

-- Arundhati Roy, from _The God of Small Things_

After he left, she curled up in her bed and cried. It seemed like the very most logical thing to do.

She wasn't…upset with him. She felt a little abandoned but she wasn't hurt, and she wasn't angry. She understands his shock; appreciates it, even. She knew that this was hard, maybe harder for him than it was for her. She didn't want to do this to him, or to herself, to throw them into this kind of unstoppable heartbreak.

Her greatest fear, as she pulled the blankets up over her body and buried her face in her pillow, was that she didn't know what was supposed to come next. She didn't know what was on his mind – probably a big blur of denial at the moment. Was he as scared as she was, frightened of facing an end? Would he even want to? She couldn't ask that of him. She _wouldn't_ ask that of him.

When she finally drifted off to sleep, fresh tears smearing her cheeks, she had another one of those unsettling disjointed dreams that made her ache for a future. When she woke up, breathless and nauseated, she felt oddly angry with herself. All of her life – or at least, since her mother's death – Peyton had scorned the simplicity and easiness of the American Dream. She'd never been the girl who dreamed of marriage and two-point-five kids and a white picket face. Brooke had always assumed that she'd marry some rich guy and carry on living a life in which she got every material thing she asked for. Peyton, on the other hand, had not even bothered to define what she wanted, or even what she _expected _to get. All she knew was what she _didn't_ want: that stereotypical, predictable life. Even when she met Luke, and she could feel her future changing, she'd only ever thought and talked about what she did not want.

And now, she wasn't going to get it. This was what she'd asked for. She laid back and inhaled deeply, blowing out her breath slowly, trying to steady the pattern of her breathing in the hopes that it would quell both her nausea and the tears pushing at her eyelids.

The door of her room opened a couple inches, but she wasn't at all startled. It was probably close to three o'clock in the morning, she was alone at home, and she was entirely vulnerable at the moment, but she wasn't afraid. She knew exactly who it as.

"Peyt?"

She turned her head toward the doorway and tried to smile reassuringly at him. Instead, a couple tears escaped her eyes, trailing down her cheeks slowly.

Lucas walked over toward her cautiously, perching on the edge of her bed, one of his hands flat against the mattress. She let her hand creep toward his, her palm draped over his, her fingers slipping in between his. She stared at their intertwined hands and tried to breathe again.

"Are you…okay?" he whispered.

Peyton swallowed hard, mulling over the question, because it could be answered on so many different levels. She finally settled on murmuring: "I think so."

He slipped his hand out from under hers so that he could reach up and smooth her hair out of her face. His fingers slipped into her curls, skimming against the skin just behind her ear. "I'm so sorry I left."

She looked right at his face for the first time, and her heart lurched at the sight of his red-rimmed eyes. "I'm sorry you found out like that," she managed to say, fresh tears springing up and gathering in her eyelashes.

Lucas pressed his lips together and inhaled sharply. "How long?" he asked, his voice gravely and intense.

Peyton's breath caught somewhere in the back of her throat. She sat up a bit, letting the words settle in the air around them, a dark, heavy coating: the acknowledgement of her impending demise. She folded her legs underneath her and looked away from him. "A little over four months, I guess. It's not…it's not like it can be determined exactly or anything." She attempted a smile, though she wasn't sure why.

"Jesus," Lucas breathed, looking at her with those heartbroken eyes. "Fuck. Peyton, how long have you known? Who are your doctors? What are you doing in terms of treatment?"

"Luke," she sighed softly, reaching for his hand again, but he pulled away from her.

"No, tell me. Peyton, you…you can beat this, okay? We'll figure it out. I'll help you."

"Lucas, it's not…it's not as simple as that. It's so late, we don't need to have this conversation now…" She sighed. "I've got cancer. It's terminal. That's the end of the story."

"No!" he said fiercely, his eyes flashing in a way that might have frightened her if she hadn't known that his anger was on her behalf rather than directed at her. "That is _not_ the end of the fucking story, because you can't fucking _die!_"

Desperately, she reached out to him, grasping both of his hands and locking her eyes with his. "Luke. Baby." She exhaled. "This is why I didn't want you to know. I…I adore you for this, Lucas, but you need to understand that there's nothing you can do to _change_ this. I'm sorry," she added, blurting out the words as tears clouded her vision, "I'm so sorry I came back. It was selfish, to get involved with you again before…"

He shook his head, looking at her in this way that he never had before, a sort of frustrated affection. "Are you crazy?"

She let out a watery laugh. "Probably."

"Peyton, you are _always_ involved with me. What would have happened if you _hadn't_ come back? Would I just have gotten a phone call by the way, someone letting me know that…" He shook his head. "You need to let me help you find some way to –"

It was at that moment that she realized that in one of Lucas' hands, both of which she was clasping, was a small, square-shaped box. She gently pried his fingers away and stared down at it before looking back up at him, wearing an expression that combined curiosity, sadness, and shock. "What…?" she whispered, her voice very small.

He cracked it open, revealing a ring, an engagement ring so very perfect it took her breath away. She recognized it dimly and her chest tightened. "That's…that's your mom's. Your mom's…from Keith."

Slowly, Lucas shook his head, without tearing his eyes away from her. She, on the other hand, could not stop looking at the ring. "No. It's _yours_. It's supposed to be yours. Someday, I'm supposed to put this on your finger. _That_ is how our future is supposed to go. _We _are _supposed_ to have a _future_." He swallowed hard and added insistently, "_Both_ of us. Together."

"Luke." She wanted to say more; she had one million other things to tell him, but she couldn't find any words other than the single-syllable abbreviation of his name.

"Peyt, you know it's true," he whispered, cupping her cheek gently in his hand and forcing her to meet his eyes. "We…we're supposed to get engaged, and get married, and live somewhere where you can paint all the walls red. You…" He closed his eyes for a moment before he continued, "You're supposed to be the mother of my children. We're supposed to have forever together."

He'd laid out such a perfect picture for her, the future she'd always denied wanting. It wasn't spectacular, but it was happy, and it was there. He'd thought it all out and known exactly what he wanted, and she'd been too stubborn to see that it was exactly what she wanted to, and even though she knew it was a little ridiculous, she felt like she'd ruined it for them both. "I know," she said tightly, tears tumbling onto her cheeks. There was a sob welling in her throat.

"I can't let that go," he said softly, grasping the hand of hers that he still held tightly. "Can you understand that?"

She moved her head in the slightest of nods. She didn't want to let go of it either.

"I can't _lose_ you, Peyton." A tear dropped onto his cheek, rushing downward and falling off his chin onto their intertwined fingers. "I can't. I can't _be_ without you." He shook his head and looked at her imploringly, his voice softening even more as he said plaintively, "_Don't leave me_."

If she had any choice in the world, she never would leave him. They'd have that life together. Forever would be theirs. But she didn't have a choice and this was her reality, and the tears on his cheeks and the look on his face were tearing her apart even faster than cancerous cells ever could. She wanted to tell him all of that; she didn't think there were words to describe her current emotional state, or for her to tell him all the things she needed for him to hear. So she just shook her head and clung to his hand and said, "I love you, Lucas."

That's the moment he started crying hard, as soon as she said those three words. She'd never seen him look so devastated, so broken before, not even after Keith's death. He was so consistently the one to save her that it was a shock to her system to feel the roles reversed, but she welcomed the feeling. She moved toward him smoothly, wrapping her arms around his torso, burying her face into his neck, kissing his skin, feeling the _thud_ of his pulse beneath her lips. She was sitting pressed up against his side, one of her knees digging against his hip. For a few moments he leaned into her, absorbing the comfort she was trying to give him and murmuring protests against the possibility of her ever vanishing from his world, but then his hand cupped the back of her bare knee and inched higher, just under the hem of her now-rumpled skirt. Only a split second later, Peyton's hands crept under his t-shirt and pushed it up, over his head.

"Peyt –"

"Shh," she whispered urgently, kissing his chest. She pulled her own shirt over her head, revealing her red, strapless bra, and laid back on her pillows, tugging his body down on top of hers.

"Peyton…" he murmured uncertainly as she unzipped his jeans, even as his own hand slipped under her body, toying with the clasp of her bra.

"Shh," she told him again, managing an actual smile as she looked up at him, her fingers threaded in his hair. "Just kiss me," she added, pressing her palm lightly against his neck, pulling his face closer to hers.

For now, all she wanted to do was remind him that she was still alive, prove to him that she still loved him, and try, for just a minute, to make them both forget.

xxx

Peyton drifted off for a while, but she knew from the blue-ish quality of the light seeping into her room through the space between her window frame and the curtains when she woke that it was still fairly early in the morning and she couldn't have been asleep for too long.

Lucas was no longer lying next to her, but he was still in the house: she could hear him moving about, probably in the kitchen. Yawning, she reached for his discarded shirt, which was lying on the floor, and slipped it on over her head. Feeling exposed, she pulled on underwear and a pair of her own pyjama pants as well. She almost didn't want to leave her room – she didn't know what to say to him.

Nonetheless, she opened the door and ventured out into the kitchen only moments later. Sure enough, Lucas was standing at the counter, pouring milk into a steaming cup of tea.

"Hi," Peyton whispered from where she stood a couple feet away from him.

"Hi," Lucas replied faintly. They regarded each other for a moment, and then she took a step toward him and he opened his arms automatically, pulling her into a warm hug. She buried her face against his bare chest as he rubbed her bag. "Are you okay? You're feeling alright?"

She nodded as she pulled away from him. She was tired, but other than that, she felt fine.

"I made you tea." He pressed the mug into her hands and smiled wryly. "Lots of sugar, just like you like it," he assured her.

"Thanks," she said faintly, staring down into the mug. She felt strangely both awkward and at ease at that moment, being with him.

Lucas placed his hand at the small of her back and steered her into the living room, toward the couch. "You know we have to talk, right?" he asked quietly, pressing his lips against her temple before they sat down side by side.

"I know," she agreed quickly, feeling her cheeks heat up as she realized what he might be implying. "I wasn't trying to, um, distract you, I…"

"I know," he cut her off his tone soothing. "And I'm definitely not complaining."

She tried to smile, but it took more effort than she had in her. Lucas still looked frightened, tired, and distressed, and she could feel herself needing to cry again.

"I called your doctor," he told her gently, an apologetic grimace on his lips, but his eyes were full of defiance.

"Of course you did," she sighed, looking away from him.

He cupped her chin in his hand, pulling her gaze back to his. "You're not getting treatment," he stated.

Her eyes flashed dangerously. "Go look in my medicine cabinet, Lucas. I am _getting _treatment."

He shook his head. "You know what I mean. Chemotherapy, radiation…you turned it all down."

"Luke, I…I have _terminal_ cancer. Okay? Malignant, vicious, unforgiving stuff. I know you don't want to believe that and I'm so sorry that you have to, but…there's nothing that can be done."

He frowned deeply. "There's a _lot_ that can be done."

"Sure, a lot that can stretch my lifespan out by what…another month? That's not anything real, Lucas. There's no _cure_. There's no chance of me going into remission."

"You don't _know_ that," he insisted hotly. "Peyton, please, let me call Andy. We can get you the best doctors, the best specialists. We can go to New York or Europe or wherever we need to. You can –"

"No," she cut him off gently. "I can't. Or maybe, really, the truth is that…I won't."

He looked frantic and heartbroken. "Why the hell not? Peyton, God –"

"Why would I want that?" she asked him softly. "Can you please try and look at this from my point of view? If I spend the next four months getting treatment after treatment, I might live for another month. Maybe even two. But that's not the _way_ I want to live. I'd be sick all the time – those treatments are killing cells, Lucas, they're poison for your body. I don't want to spend the last months of…of my life…feeling awful all the time. That's why I came home. I just…" She shrugged. "I want to be happy, not miserable. Can you understand that?" she asked him hopefully, reaching for his hand.

He stood up and walked away, shaking his head once again as he paced around the living room. "No. No, I _can't_."

"Lucas…"

"No! Peyton, you have to _fight_. Okay? You have to! You're _twenty_ years old, you're so young. You have _so much_ left to give the world. You…you've got so much more time that I want to spend with you," he added quietly.

"I'm sorry," she whispered earnestly, her eyes watering.

He shook his head, laughing mirthlessly, incredulously. "No. Do not fucking apologize to me for dying. Just don't. Don't apologize for anything, just _fight this_."

"There's no point!" she cried. "I can die happy or I can die miserably, and I pick happiness! I want happiness, okay?"

"No!" he shouted back. "It's _not_ okay! You can't _die_, no matter your _mood_. Maybe you're scared of being sick for months and, babe, I understand that, but I promise you I'd be there for you every second or every day."

Her face crumpled. "I'd lose my hair. My curls," she said wistfully, thinking of all the times he'd told her how much he loved to bury his hands in her blonde locks.

"Who cares?! God, Peyt, do you think _I_ do?" He shook his head. "It doesn't _matter_. You're beautiful any and every way. It's just _hair_. What matters is your _life_."

She nodded, her chin quivering. "And I want a good one. I don't want to be scared and sad at the end of it, okay? Luke, please, I just want…"

"I can't…I just can't accept that." He paced across the room and cupped her face in both his hands. She reached up and gently rested her hands on his wrists. "Maybe you can, maybe you're brave enough to just let yourself die, but _I can't accept that_."

"And _I_ can't do what you're asking, Lucas," she whispered gently. "I made up my mind about that early on. I want…I want to spend the next four months, or however long, living with Brooke and getting to know Julian and helping Haley make music and watching Nathan and Jamie play basketball…and being with you. Couldn't we have the beginning of forever?" she asked him hopefully, her eyes gleaming with unshed tears. "Even if we don't make it to the end…can't we just have the beginning?"

"I-I…I don't know if I can be with you on a…a timeline. I don't know if I'm strong enough to just let you go, to let us end."

She shrugged her trembling shoulders. "I would never ask you to do something you couldn't," she said simply, trying to smile through her sacrifice. "If you don't want this you can walk away right now and I'd never hold it against you."

Lucas shook his head, his tears spilling over. He looked at her with a love that had such incredible ferocity it made her breathless. "You are _always_ involved with me," he reminded her seriously. "I could never walk away from you. I could never let it end here. Being with you again just reminds me how…_essential _you are to me, how I could never let you go."

"So what does that mean?" she asked him anxiously, sighing. She let herself fall forward a bit, closing her eyes as she rested her forehead against his.

"I don't know," he murmured. "God, Peyt, I don't know." He tilted his chin forward and kissed her softly, with infinite sweetness, and then gathered her into his arms protectively. She could feel the moisture of the tears from his cheeks brushing against her own as he buried his face in her neck and kissed the spot just below her ear. Quietly but certainly, he promised, "I love you, too," words that managed to hurt her heart and heal her all at once.

Peyton heard the unmistakable sound of a key in the front door's lock, and peeked out of Lucas' embrace to see both Brooke and Julian walking in, laughing quietly with one another. Both of them froze when they saw Lucas and Peyton wrapped up in one another in the middle of the living room, both blondes with red, tearstained cheeks, tired eyes, and generally distraught expressions. Brooke frowned deeply as she studied her best friend worriedly.

"What…what's going on?"


End file.
